When I was a kid, I remember feeling comforted and special to get to live in a community where it was okay to pop-in to a neighbour’s house. My favourite place to visit was Mr. Bouvier’s. He was this old, old man (the oldest one I knew at least) who had the smoothest driveway on the block. I loved riding my bike onto his driveway (which was only about two car lengths long, so you’d have to do it over and over again) just to hear the transitioning sound of the crunchy street to the smooth whistle of the asphalt – it had the same mesmerizing effect every time. Mr. Bouvier would always come outside and greet me with his square glasses, raspy voice and his over-powering B.O smell. Meanwhile, my mom was home knowing I was in safe hands.
But it just doesn’t seem the same anymore.
Today I spent two and a half hours walking around St. Boniface attempting to interview people for an election profile my journalism class is working on for CBC – I felt very uncomfortable. So uncomfortable with the idea of going door-to-door that I got to thinking: Is it ethical for a journalist to just pop-in to someone’s home – into their private space on a matter of business? Is it me? Or was it the vibe I was getting after knocking on so many doors that didn’t answer that got me thinking it wasn’t okay? Think about it: I was there two and a half hours and, after half an hour of pep-talking myself into actually knocking, I was knocking on every two or three doors (I didn’t want to seem desperate by knocking on all of them) and only three or four people actually answered. How frustrating.
I became so self-conscious – do I have an uninviting knock? Do I sound dangerous? Or do I knock too quietly? Are everyone’s doorbells broken? Should I ring and knock? Or is that too pushy? And how long do I stay after knocking and ringing before I give up?
And then there were the homes with signs asking me to use the backdoor. Well what if I don’t know them? Do they still want me to open their back gate and enter their private outdoor living room? The backdoor seemed too personal. Also, what about the houses with front porches that had a door to the porch and then a front door inside the porch? Which one is technically the front door? If I choose the outside one they probably won’t hear me knocking, but if I go inside they might yell at me for invading their space.
Aah, so here I am wandering through this, otherwise cozy and friendly, neighbourhood feeling like a telemarketer, only worse because I was forcing myself into their private life, debating whether or not I had chosen the right method of getting my interviews and reminiscing about the good old days when people would leave their screen doors open and you’d walk right into their home. That’s the other thing: people have porch doors, then a screen door before the real front door – talk about closed off!
And now I’m home. I’m frustrated my job isn’t done. Curious to know how many people were really home when I knocked. And confused as to whether or not I was out of line knocking on people’s doors.
It just feels like people don’t trust other people like they used to. Like my mom would trust that I could ride my bike around the neighbourhood and visit other people alone. Like Mr. Bouvier would trust I would stick to the driveway and not ride into his marigold flowers. Like I would trust that when I did knock on someone’s door the other side would be safe.
Maybe that’s what people are worried about: what could be on the other side.