Several years ago, I noticed a problem along my driveway: the
cap on my neighbor’s sewer line clean-out had lifted. Water, TP,
and less savory items were bubbling forth, forming a pool about 12
feet long and 15 inches wide between my driveway and the house next
door.
Several years ago, I noticed a problem along my driveway: the cap on my neighbor’s sewer line clean-out had lifted. Water, TP, and less savory items were bubbling forth, forming a pool about 12 feet long and 15 inches wide between my driveway and the house next door.
My neighbors were not home, so I called their landlord, Mike. His wife Lynn arrived in my driveway within 20 minutes to survey the situation. A plumber arrived within an hour to clear the line. And Mike knocked on my door the next morning to apologize for the inconvenience, thank me for calling, and encourage me to call again, any time, for any problem whatsoever.
Mike is a responsible landlord.
Perhaps part of the reason that Mike is a responsible landlord is that he was brought up in that house. His mother lived and died there; her lemon, orange, and spruce trees still grace the property. Perhaps it is partly out of respect for her memory that Mike maintains that house in such good shape that if hard times were to befall him, he and Lynn and their three daughters could move into that house as it stands.
It is impossible to imagine Thomas Velladao moving his wife and 2-year-old son into one of the 25 trailers in his trailer park, where a 700 square foot pool of sewage stagnated and stank and sickened the children living in the park for weeks last March while Mr. Velladao sought out a lower bid. (To be sure, his wife did interrupt her Hawaiian vacation to make calls about the sewage spill. Big of her.)
Mr. Velladao is upset at being called a slumlord. Mr. Velladao, you own a slum. Fix it, or sell it, or accept the title. Personally, I would rather you sold it. Buy something in Petaluma, so you can keep an eye on it. At least then, if your tenants live in squalor, your neighbors in Petaluma will know exactly what kind of landlord you are.
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As I write, my windows rattle and buzz from the reverberations of the rap music from across the street. It is not quite loud enough to bother me. If it were, I have options. I could put on some music of my own, “Sounds of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel, perhaps.
Or I could go across the street and ask my neighbor to turn it down. Or I could call the cops, who would eventually meander over and tell my across-the-street neighbor to turn it down. They might even cite him for disturbing the peace. Ironically, the rap is briefly drowned out by a semi truck driving toward the construction site of the new police station.
Ms. Linda Schulman wrote a letter to the editor, printed in Thursday’s Dispatch, in support of a new city noise ordinance. I oppose the proposed ordinance, for four reasons.
First, the proposed noise level, 50 decibels, is too low. A pool filter, a lawn mower, a leaf blower, or an air conditioner would exceed the allowable level. It is not practicable.
Secondly, people have an uncanny ability to sidestep well-intentioned laws. I do not know how people would decide to sidestep this one. But who would have predicted that newly licensed teen drivers would try to get around the law that says they can’t drive friends around by putting their friends in the trunk, rather than in a seat belt?
Thirdly, as far as noise pollution goes, the city is the worst offender: leaf blowers and mowers around city hall in the early morning, jack hammers and bulldozers on Monterey Street all day long. When the city trades in its leaf blowers for rakes, I will allow them to consider decibel levels for citizens.
Lastly, we already have laws about disturbing the peace. Ms. Schulman, if your neighbor is noisy, ask him to quiet down. If he persists, call the police. If you do not have the guts to ask your neighbor to be quiet, or the guts to call the police if he does not comply, how is passing a new ordinance going to help you?
Cynthia Anne Walker is a homeschooling mother of three and former engineer. She is a published independent author. Her column is published in The Dispatch every week.
