Dear Neighbors

Where I’m from, on that winding stretch of Old Highway 421 between Boone and Mountain City, we lift a finger. Or rather, lift a fanger.

I don’t mean we help other people, thought we do that too. I’m referring to the gesture we make in our car as another car passes in the opposite direction. We lift a fanger. That is, we pick one or two fingers up off the steering wheel in a modified wave, to greet the other driver.

Old habits die hard. I would lift a fanger at the folks traveling down my country road when I lived in Hillsborough. Often, they would wave back.

Now I live in your neighborhood in downtown Durham, and as I walk the dogs, my impulse is still to wave. But it’s hard. Wrangling 140 pounds of pit bull, and simultaneously acknowledging my neighbors’ existence is hard.

I say all this because I want you to know that if it looks like I’m hoisting a bag of dog poop and slinging it in your direction, that’s just my attempt to be friendly. Sorry if there’s been any confusion.

Your neighbor,

Amy