If you read an earlier post, you will discover that I have had to call the police to quell the drinking parties next door. Eventually, after calling a few times, I discovered that the guys next door are former students of mine. I don't know who is more distressed by that fact, them or me. A week ago tonight i called the police for the 5th time since June 6th, and there were 4 squad cars idling in the street from midnight to 1:30 a.m. as they rounded up kids, towed cars and arrested at least one of the boys living next door.
On Wednesday, a deputation of three of the young men arrived at my back door. I invited them in, and we sat in the living room discussing the situation. They apologized for having disturbed me so much this summer, and then they proceeded to suggest that 1) if I would stop calling the police, people wouldn't be running through my back yard (leaving flip flops in the mud and half empty cans of beer in the raised beds . . . ) and 2) If I would call them and not the police, they would "get everyone to "dial it down."
I suggested that their logic was a bit faulty. That if I were in their shoes, and being arrested because I was hosting all of Oyster River at underage drinking parties, I would change my behavior and stop the parties. They assured me they were "getting it under control," and that on Monday when I called the police, they had only invited 15 people to come over (plus the 4 of them) and REALLY, they had no idea i could hear them. Huh!
I pointed out that no one else in the neighborhood was up until 2 in the morning partying, and that since they had moved into the neighborhood, they were obliged to conform to the social, cultural and legal requirements of the neighborhood. Their eyes glazed over. They repeated their request that i call them instead of the police. They wrote their 3 cell phone numbers on a card and gave it to me. I said I'd try it once, and then I would call the police. So far, (knock wood) we have had a week of blessedly quiet nights. Even when I have seen 7 cars on the street. I am crossing my fingers.
Later that same Wednesday, I attended a reading and book signing at River Run Bookstore in Portsmouth. The reader: former Advanced Writing student Meg Frazer, out promoting her new novel. I had a great chat with her, and felt proud when she acknowledged me during her thank yous to various people who had helped her writing along the way. A friend of hers and another former student, Larissa Crockett was there with her 11 and 9 year old kids, and we had a great chat as well. She has just successfully run for the board of Selectpersons in her town and thinks she may want to be Governor of Maine one day. She told me of how she has had to defend her use of the word "selectperson" to older men who keep reminding her that she has run for the Board of Selectmen. We had a brief discussion about the importance of language in the area of women's rights.
While I was standing and eating bonbons after the reading, a young man came rushing in and greeted me warmly - you guessed it, another former student who saw me as he was walking by the store. We had a talk about what he has done since his graduation two years ago.
This morning I met with another student who has recently sent me her short stories to read. She has always been a great critic/reader of my work, and she's slogging her way through my novel as we speak. Another student who spent this past semester in New Zealand just emailed me and is returning to Durham and wants to get together.
So . . . thankfully, it's good students 5 to questionable students 3. I hold out hope for good students 8, questionable students 0.
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