Being a good neighbor in old-time, and modern Phoenix

There's an old saying, "Good fences make for good neighbors" and it's really true, especially out in the west, where sometimes it can be difficult to know where your neighbor's property ends, and yours begins. But there really is much more to it than building a sturdy fence, it's simply about respect. I have that respect, and most people that I've met in a longish life do, too.

You don't need to build a fence with barbed wire on top of it to keep me out. A simple marker will do, and if it's easy to see, you can just tell me. I will respect your property, I will not take things that don't belong to me. I also won't cheat, steal or lie. I'm a man of honor.

Men, and of course women, of honor don't need to memorize a lot of complicated laws. They would know, for example, how many liquor stores that they would need to rob in order for the police to come after them (1), but mostly they just simply know how to behave as a good neighbor.

Speaking for myself, my first lesson in this was when I was a kid, mowing the grass for my Grandma in her little town in Minnesota. There had been fences between the properties many years ago, but over the years they had faded away, so I had to learn where the property line was between Grandma's house and the house next door. It was pretty easy to see, by just splitting the difference, and when we mowed the lawn we made sure to do one more swipe for the neighbor, just to be sure. We didn't go out there with a measuring tape, we were just generous. This was a given.

Of course, all of this makes me think about being a good neighbor in old-time Phoenix. Yes, of course there were stinkers, who probably stole clothes that were left hanging out to dry, or robbed banks. But I see people like myself, people who will give a helping hand to a neighbor when it's needed, people who would shoe a horse if someone found themselves way out in the country, and were stranded. I can see these people walking out to help, their face tanned from working in the sun, their hands rough, their clothes dirty, and probably sweaty. And the picture that I see of them is of beautiful people.

Thank you for being a good neighbor! Can I get a drink of water from your well?

Image at the top of this post: The Sahuaro Ranch (then called the Bartlett Ranch) in 1908. It was waaaay out in the country, north of Glendale. 59th Avenue and Olive.

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