The Mausoleum

“No trespassing allowed”.

Imagine welcoming your guests this way.  That’s often the first greeting in many community housing estates. 

I live near two of these.  One of them for the over-fifty-fives.  I have a friend who thought about living there but she didn’t like the rigidity of the rules where residents are not allowed to have their grandchildren on overnight stays.  Another friend who does live there, rues the decision and expresses incredulity at their rules as well, rules that include the prohibition of bird feeders.  Too messy I suspect.

It’s very pretty there though and I know it costs a fortune to live there.  There isn’t a weed to be found and the grass is as green as can be. I wonder at the level of poison leached into our water supply from this gloriously neat and orderly neighborhood.  I go for walks there because it’s  nearby and off the road from traffic and circuitously pleasant to travail.  No one ever knows I’m a “trespasser” because the occupants never seem to be visible.  I walk on their roads, admire the areas of natural habitat that must have been part of the development's deal, and follow the google rule of doing no evil. The place is usually like a ghost town that's been freshly-painted and manicured.  I have occasionally noticed a soul or two. There is even a pretty gazebo there for phantoms to enjoy.  And in front of the gazebo a wide depression of open, grassy space, which becomes a pond at times and you can hear the bullfrogs croaking at night that live in it. Often the only sounds of life. 

I was there with my dog the other day.  Met another dog who was being led by a doggie walker.  The two of our dogs were frolicking happily in the open common area just out front the gazebo in the grassy green area that sometimes becomes a pond for the frogs.  The dogs romped around happily while the doggie walker and I admired their playfulness, laughed and admired the joy of such a beautiful spring day.

Oops here comes a stern-looking resident making a bee-line right to my nose. 

“Do you know that this is private property?”  she said, with polite-feigning pique.

“The world belongs to everyone” I retorted. 

That’s when I knew it was going to blow out of all proportion.

And I was right.  She wanted me to put a leash on my dog right there and then or else! My dog is a toy hound the size of a petite handbag, and he loves to sniff around freely and it didn’t look like a harmful thing to do so I let him.  Seems there is nowhere for a dog to do this anymore, be off a leash.  Maybe because humans are on a leash so much that they too want some other thing to leash over.

Well I responded again, even worse this time with an “I don’t take orders, sorry” retort, the first thing that came out of my mouth.  It was too late.  You could almost see the inside of her head exploding.  Imagine the mess that grey matter would have caused to that green lawn if it weren’t for the containment of her hardened cranium.

The doggie walker began back pacing away from me apologizing as he went that he didn’t know I wasn’t a resident, regretting the collusion with a trespasser.  What option did he have he supplicated, his job was at stake.  

Oh boy.

Conversely, the other trespasser-labeled estate does have weeds but they smile to passers-by. 

Nonetheless, is it old-fashioned to expect the best of everyone and perhaps put up a positive sign for a change like “Visitors welcome”?  "Trespassers" is such a bludgeoning word.  Are we so petty that we have to put up signs and dub everyone taking an innocent walk on a fine day as potentially mischievous?  Are we now even being policed by our very own neighbors?

I'm starting to feel that the less weeds in a neighborhood the more soulless the tomb.