This morning I walked to my car, which I had parked around the corner due to unprecedented vehicular abundance. As I walked to my car, I encountered my neighbor, three doors down, leaving his house. Remembering that I had seen a party resembling a wedding at his house over the weekend, I asked him if his daughter had gotten married. He said no, engaged, and I congratulated him and we shook hands and exchanged daddish small talk about weddings, costs and such. Very brief, but friendly and cheerful. I realized afterwards that it was the first time we have ever spoken. We have lived three doors down from one another for 18 years and had never spoken. Somewhere I had gotten the idea that he was a grumpy, unfriendly sort, yet I had never made the effort to even say hello on the dozen or so times I have seen him over the years. Indeed, I had only a general notion that he had children. 18 years, 3 doors down, and I do not even know his name. That's California neighborly. Maybe he thought I was a grumpy, unfriendly sort. Maybe he was right.