Miracle On Fishback Street

A few turning points in history, large and small:


“Barbarians at the gate!” (Someone peered over the Roman city walls and cried, 'My God, the barbarians are at the gates!' Someone else heard it and decided it was a catchy phrase.)


Wolf at the door (colloquial: a life-threatening poverty)


“I stand at the door and knock.” (Bible, Rev. 3:20)


Miracle on 34th Street (1947 movie in which Kris Kringle plays himself?)
. . . . .


At 7:30 last evening, Lynda Allen stood at my gate, with two messages to deliver. (The first was that barbarians were casing local properties with intent to commit rapine, ransacking, looting, etc.) The second was that she was moving the ice machine – it was noisy and she was going to move it. In fairness, she never did state the quid pro quo (drop the lawsuit) that her homeowners insurance company did the day before; she flatly stated she was moving the machine.


According to my cycling partner, who was present, Lynda appeared calm and came across as quite neighborly. To be sure, she didn’t sound like the Lord wanting to infuse Peace, Joy and Love into my starving and shriveled heart; the announcement sounded more like a business concession. Still, she appeared in person at my gate.


Color me cynical, but manipulation rankles me because I cannot easily “read” people and their motivations. (I don’t play poker, either.) Lynda’s statement in March to the City Council, “We don’t talk,” needs amplifying to, “I have nothing more to gain by talking to him. Indeed, I would have to give up some part of what I have. So, I never talk with him.”


I cannot help but think back to her previous attempts to evade consequences, such as claiming a fictional timer on the icemaker to limit its operation, and hammering up the ineffective plywood sound box instead of having a competent professional build a bona fide sound containment structure.

Lynda did not bring up the impending deadline to file a Response to my Complaint, nor did I, except to say that I have an appointment next week to review the “offer” from her insurance company. (See the previous post, No, Thank You, To Lowball Offer.)

I have been waiting for her “to make nice” ever since I moved in over two years ago. I’m not sure she understands “nice” for its own sake, rather than using it as a tool to get what she wants, but… I will count the gesture as a miracle on Fishback Street.

- only five days remain on the lawsuit response deadline -