NIFTY NEIGHBOURS
Call 911 First, Then Remember to Ask the Superheroes Next Door for Help
Basement rescues, creepy drug dealers and collapsing decks are all in a day’s work for Rhonda and Steve’s Rescue Service
Ring Ring Ring Ring
I pick up the phone and say hello. “Good morning Gill. This is Detective Page from up the road.” “Oh, good morning, Detective. What’s up?” “Have you seen what’s going down in the street?” “No, what’s happening?” “Look out your living room window.”
I move swiftly to the window, adjust the blinds and look out. The road is filled with police cars, and I notice curtains twitching up and down the street.
“What the hell’s going on, Rhonda?” I ask, dropping the formalities. “I think it’s a raid! Looks like we’ve got a grow op across the street, my neighbour announces excitedly.
Before 2018 when marijuana became legal in Canada, grow ops were popping up everywhere. You could always tell a grow house. Bright lights would shine from behind permanently closed blinds, and there would always be a different vehicle in the driveway. Shifty-looking characters would be seen entering and leaving the house at all hours of the night and day.
Watching the situation unfold, Rhonda and I discussed the shady shenanigans we’d observed across the road. We finally realized why the For Sale sign had stood in the yard for a year or more with no buyers. It was there to draw suspicion away from all the comings and goings at the house.
Through the open garage door, we saw the wall between the garage and interior had been knocked through. Police were carrying large plastic bags filled with assorted paraphernalia out to a police van.
After half an hour, things settled down, the police drove away, and all was quiet. Soon after the last cruiser had left, a car screeched to a halt just up the road from the house. A woman in a business suit ran down the street and stopped at the For Sale sign. She glanced around surreptitiously, ripped the realtor sign off its hooks, threw it into her trunk and sped off.
Hmmm — interesting.
One day my kids and their neighbourhood friends handed me a piece of paper with a licence number written on it and told me about a creepy man in a white van. They’d often seen him cruising slowly up and down our street and lurking in the corner store car park.
I called the police, and they told me one of my neighbours, Rhonda, had already reported this person, and they’d opened a file on him. This is when I gave Rhonda the title Detective Page.
I had a visit from a young police officer who confided the person I’d reported lived near the top of our road and was a known drug dealer. We discovered which house was his after seeing the white van parked in his driveway. Soon after we’d reported him, the man changed his licence plate. A few months later, he moved out of the neighbourhood, and thankfully, we never saw him again.
On every street, there are good neighbours and odd ones. Which type are you? Never mind — this isn’t about you. It’s about Rhonda and Steve, my lovely neighbours who came to my rescue on more than one occasion.
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
“Hi Gill, how’re you doing?” “Rhonda, I’m trapped in my basement. I need your help!” “Oh, No! What happened?” “I went downstairs to put laundry on, and one of the kids slammed the basement door. Now it’s jammed, and I can’t get out.” Snort of laughter “Don’t worry, Gill — I’ll be over in a minute.” Ding! Dong! Muffled voices and smothered giggles from Rhonda and my kids. The basement door opens. “Thanks, Rhonda — you’re a lifesaver! You’re going to have to start advertising Rhonda’s Rescue Services!”
One summer evening, I’m out on my back deck with my friend Tamara, enjoying a glass of wine. All of a sudden, we hear an alarming creaking and ripping noise. In a flash, I remember the conversation I’d had with my husband weeks earlier while leaning on the deck railing.
“Honey, do you think we should have someone look at the deck? It feels a bit spongy in the corner here. What do you think?” I asked. “Oh no — I’m sure it’s fine,” he said.
Creeeeaaaakkk!
In slow motion, the deck starts to rip away from the side of the house. I grab Tamara’s arm and drag her into my kitchen. She lunges back towards the deck, one arm outstretched towards the table.
“My wine!”
I throw her back into the kitchen just in time.
The deck is now hanging off the side of the house at an odd angle, partially torn away and clinging on for dear life. I look out in horror at the barbeque. Oh my God, the gas tank! What if it falls and explodes?
I call 911. Luckily we live close to the Firehall. Meanwhile —
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
“Hey Gill, how’s it going?” “Rhonda, our deck just collapsed! The barbeque gas tank is going to explode and blow up the neighbourhood! Is Steve home? Can you guys help?”
Two minutes later, Steve Page charges into the backyard with a sturdy wooden post on his shoulder and promptly jams it up under the deck. Sirens announce the arrival of the fire department. Soon our garden is filled with burly men in uniforms and every single child in the street, including some we’ve never seen before.
The supervisor sends the rookie onto the deck, and the three senior firefighters stand leaning back with arms crossed, watching as he gingerly climbs the wobbling steps. They’re still attached but sloping at an odd angle.
On reaching the deck, the young firefighter surveys the scene. Then, bless his heart, carefully starts removing hanging planters filled with flowers and begins handing them down to his team members.
“Never mind about the marigolds — just get the gas tank!” I yell.
Soon the gas tank is disconnected and safely lowered to the ground, and we all breathe a sigh of relief. The neighbourhood is safe.
Steve’s swift action saved the day, and from then on, Rhonda and Steve were my heroes.
3 Things I Learned After Being Rescued By My Neighbours
- Neighbours can be superheroes or criminals. Be a superhero.
- Don’t slam doors. Slammed doors sometimes get stuck.
- If your deck (don’t read this in an Australian accent) feels spongy, get an expert assessment immediately.
Rhonda and Steve moved out of our neighbourhood a few years ago, and we still miss them. When we bump into them in the community, we often reminisce about the good old days when our kids were little and played together in the street. We also chuckle over the times we had to employ Rhonda and Steve’s Rescue Service.
P.S. Rhonda, Chris says thanks for that time you looked after her when her brother Steven cracked his head open on the diving board at Eagleridge pool. And Steven said to tell you those rainbow jello deserts you made were really cool. 🙂
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