Crazy Crap Item #124: The part where 1500 Norwood waits in vigil on the new neighbors

This past March, we at 1500 Norwood suffered an intolerable loss. The O'Connors moved away. To Milwaukee.

Yes, you read right. Milwaukee.

Why, you ask, would anyone leave the sylvan splendor and sophisticated city-style living of 1500 Norwood for the great unknown frontier of some border hinterland? Work, they tell us. Unavoidable. We mourn.

News of the impending move engendered surmises as to our new neighbors. Would they be fun-loving folk, eager to partake of our many hijinks? Would we get to screen prospective neighbors, ensuring only the best and brightest could join our ranks?

The answer to the latter was no. Apparently, the O'Connors were being "relocated," which means they sell their house to their employer, who takes it from there.

As to the former ... the jury is still, alas, out.

Not that we don't have new neighbors. At first, it seemed promising. A same-sex couple, we are told. A soon-to-be retired Army dentist. His partner, rumored to be a physical therapist. We keep our eyes peeled for activity.

A moving truck arrives. Items are delivered. Shutters remain shuttered.

I hear tell my neighbor Florence has delivered a gift of shortbread to welcome them. So they are, we are to understand, moved in. I bake a loaf of bread and purchase olive oil as a welcome. But the new neighbors make no appearance, so I am forced to eat the bread myself.

Livingroom lights are spied, and Eamon strikes up an actual live conversation with one of the new neighbors while mowing the lawn. Rick is his name -- the Army dentist. A pleasant fellow, Eamon tells me. They speak of lawn maintenance and the superiority of push mowers. Eamon describes the annual block party, and suggests coconut bras may be involved. Rick registers enthusiasm.

So I bake loaf #2, based on Eamon's report that neighbors are stateside. I deliver said loaf, and chat with Rick, as pleasant and enthusiastic as Eamon had reported. He can't wait for the block party, he tells me. I tell him of the afternoon gatherings of mothers at Ruth's benches, and invite him to join us any time. He seems pleased and eager.

And then I never see him again. Shutters remain shuttered. There are occasional lights on. Delores reports they are out of town often. Megan theorizes they are avoiding us. Rick's partner is still unnamed, unmet.

I deliver flyers for the block party planning meeting. Rick and unnamed partner do not attend.

But still, through it all, Eamon and I maintain our faith that Rick lurks within, just waiting to be coaxed out of doors. As we gather at Ruth's benches, we occasionally cast a rueful eye at the former O'Connor home, longing for contact. We plaintively cry out, "Rick, Rick!"

Our cries are unanswered.