The welcome wagon
suburban wives compete to out-welcome the newcomers
When new families moved into Sycamore Woods subdivision, they were just looking forward to their new life next place. Most families looked forward to their new homes, their new lawns, and their new surroundings. They wanted a decent kitchen, comfortable bathrooms, serviceable closets, and a fenced back yard. If their home had an extra room for the pool table and maybe a wet bar, so much the better. If their home had a wood-burning fireplace or two, then so much the better still.
But the reality was, there was often more in store in the neighborhood. Back in that era, it was not uncommon for some of the housewives in a community to develop a bit of a welcome wagon approach with their new neighbors. They wanted to set a good example for what good neighbors were like. Whey wanted to set a good example and standard for what the quality of life could be in the community. Some of the ladies, however, perhaps overindulged in this manner. They made it a bit of a competition, and competition was neither called for, nor necessary in this situation.
Ginger, Brenda, Margie, Sunny, and Carol were sometimes referred to as “the welcome wagon ladies.” They took it upon themselves to develop their own styles as to how best to welcome, how best to wow, the new people moving into Sycamore Woods. Oh, it had started out innocent enough, simple enough, as these things often do. And then the ladies raised the ante a little bit. It went so far, and so fast, that homes would sell in record time in the community. When the offer of a community is compelling, people talk. And the low buzz eventually became a shout heard all over town.
It all started easily and informally enough, sitting around the large round table under the umbrella at their community pool. “Whatcha doing for your welcome wagon gift,” Ginger was asked. “I believe a hearty meal shows a hearty heart for hospitality, so I’ll usually bring spaghetti,” Ginger replied. “Brenda, what about you,” another inquired. “A great snack is always in order, so I bake a big case of molasses cookies,” Brenda said. Margie chimed in that “breakfast is always an important meal, so I bake fresh biscuits from scratch and bring them over early on a Saturday morning.”
Sunny was next, telling the others that “since my name is Sunny and I love nature, I like to bring some flowers over to the new neighbors.” Carol was the last to speak, but she had to be prompted. “Well, Carol, what do you happen to bring to the new neighbors when they move in,” someone asked her. Carol blushed and looked down at her iced-tea on the table. “Well, let’s just say I mix it up a little bit. I might offer a little bit of this, or bring a little bit of that, you know, that sort of thing,” she said with a lying, blank face.
That didn’t sit well with the others. “Come on, Carol, spill the beans. You know we girls like to share. And we don’t do suspense, so what is it that you offer the new neighbors,” she was asked. “Look, I just can’t say. And I won’t say. I don’t even know you ladies all that well, I just moved in ourselves a little over a year ago. Let’s just say I’m a bit more relational. I give whatever the moment calls for. Sometimes I have an idea in advance, and sometimes I respond to what the moment calls for,” she said. Her bullsh*t non-answer really annoyed the others, but the subject matter faded.
A new family moved in the neighborhood a few weeks later. The usual round of hugs, helpful pointers, chatty conversations, and various welcome wagon gifts were brought to the new family over a few days. Margie brought her biscuits. Brenda brought her molasses cookies. Ginger brought over the spaghetti dinner. Sunny brought her sunshine in the form of fresh flowers. Carol would always bring up the rear, after all the others had made their earlier social calls.
Early one Monday morning, the enterprising realtor that sold a lot of the homes in Sycamore Woods noticed a couple arguing on their driveway. “You ate the spaghetti. You loved the cookies. I loved the flowers. The kids loved the biscuits. And then the last one, WHAT THE F*CK was that all about? Really, you’re going to do this to me mere days after we closed on our home here,” the wife said. She was clearly upset, and furious, by now.
The realtor said nothing as he kept driving in his Ford convertible. He had heard some things. He had seen some things. And he had surely suspected some things. He knew what moved people. He knew what motivated people. He knew how weak people could be. He knew how people could make bad decisions in the blink of an eye. But bad decisions sometimes produced new listings for his real estate practice.
Carol had been single for about a year and a half. Her spouse had died suddenly in a robbery. She was so stunned, so thrown, that she moved from her family home and bought a place in Sycamore Woods. A new setting, one that felt friendly, familiar, and welcoming was what she needed. But she had other needs as well, and she was determined to meet them. She missed a lot about her late husband and their life together. But she was still alive, and live was for the living.
Carol wasn’t all that domestic in nature, however. She had not been much of a cook over the years. She wasn’t a big gardener, either. Her needs were more social, and sometimes more physical. She like to run, she liked to bike a lot. And she never liked to be alone.
One day at the nearby hardware store, Ginger, Brenda, Margie, and Sunny were getting some new patio chairs and cushions for the season for their homes. They overheard a couple of the Dads from the neighborhood speaking a few feet away. They were a little taken aback by what they heard. “Yeah, my wife loved the welcome wagon committee, so thoughtful,” said one. “My wife said the same, she said it really showed the heart of neighborhood,” said the other.
Then the conversation turned a little more, well, blunt. “Ten out of ten, I am not even lying. My wife would never do something like that. I felt so welcome. And if this is how we guys get welcomed into the community, then man, I wish I could buy a few more houses in the neighborhood,” one said. The other guy was much more direct. “So many styles, so many approaches, and her stamina, well, it was downright impressive. I could never tell my wife. This sh*t needs to forever stay between us Dads,” said the other guy with a very serious face.
That weekend at the swimming club, the ladies all confronted Carol. They had had their own suspicions about Carol for a few months now, but they were simply too old-fashioned to even contemplate what had been rumored about Carol. That changed today, however. If what they suspected about Carol was true, well, then it might perhaps give them all a black eye. They could all be frowned upon, or worse. They had to know the truth about Carol. Just what was her gift on the welcome wagon ?
Carol walked over to the ladies at the big round table. She had a spring in her step, and she was smiling broadly. She plopped down in her chair and gave that mischievous smile like she had just been for a very hard ride. Margie stood up and pointed her finger at Carol. “We’ve heard some things about you, Carol. And not nice things. I think we all have a pretty fair idea of your offering on the welcome wagon. Is it true, Carol. IS IT TRUE ?”
The gig was up. Carol had been caught. And she knew it. Carol sat there for a few seconds and quietly nodded her head forward, then bounced her head up and down slowly. Then she scanned her head slowly around the large round table. She began to speak, and she was finally ready to reveal her own offering for the welcome wagon. “What I offer, ladies, is myself.”
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