That guy

So apparently I have to be that guy.

Look, it's been a rough few weeks with the job uncertainty, and I haven't been feeling great. After what felt like a late Tuesday night panic attack--it certainly seemed like one--I've felt somewhat better. On top of that, I've come down with something. Not realizing a couple days ago that I'm sick made it all the worse.

And then there's the neighbors with the unspeakably loud subwoofer. I haven't said anything because it tends to come and go, although it usually picks up around 10:45 p.m. Sometimes it's loud enough to be extremely annoying, and sometimes it is intolerable. (Seriously. I can't go anywhere in my place without hearing it and/or feeling it.)

I'd put off writing a letter to these relatively new neighbors because I didn't have the energy for it, and I knew that I ought to wait until there had been a night that was on the worst end of the scale. That night was tonight. I went back into the bedroom where the pounding bass was a slightly duller thumping and fired up the old desktop to write a letter to them.

I'm pretty pleased with what I wrote, but I can also see it making me sound like an insufferable jerk, especially since I've had no communication with them. (I accept the blame for not mentioning how disruptive the noise is. Notice I'm blaming the noise, not them. Or is this just me running from confrontation?) I've not mentioned this problem to the rental office and don't intend to on this occasion, but after the letter, going to them would be the next step. I'm the victim, yet whatever I do, I come across as the bad guy, even though I believe they have to know at times they have things up way too loud.

I mentioned on Twitter that I was writing such a letter, and two people responded that they thought a face-to-face interaction would be better, that a letter may escalate the problem. So I've put it to my followers, and I put it to you too. Would I be better off knocking on their door tomorrow and saying hey, I'd really appreciate it if you'd turn down the subwoofer, or should I stick to my letter? Choose carefully.

Grandma's letter

Last night at knit night one of the women brought some old knitting magazines and cards she'd been given. Seeing as I didn't know what to write today, I thought I'd dig out one of the old needlecraft magazines in my possession. I was thinking that I held onto it when they were cleaning out my grandmother's possessions, but now I believe it must have been something my mom gave me when they last moved.

I was going to post a couple pictures from the spring/summer 1979 issue of Good Housekeeping Needlecraft, but then I opened up Crochet from Sunset Books and found something that stopped me dead in my chair. It wasn't the ditto or xerox copies in between the pages but a handwritten letter.

Maybe it seems silly, but I wasn't sure if I should read the letter since it was addressed to my mother. Still, knowing that I had this in my possession and that it very well could have been written thirty years ago by my grandmother, how could I not read it? My heart beat faster as I began reading, not because I was finding or expecting to find something traumatic but because the chances of seeing something like this are so small.

The letter is two pages with writing on both sides, although at least one more page must have gone with it. (The letter ends without what a natural conclusion or signature.) I was confused by what I was reading and set it aside. I was trying to understand why my grandmother would be starting the correspondence mentioning how she had been worried about not getting my mom's letter until it arrived on Friday. (This letter is "dated" Sunday night.) I was becoming a little more nervous about reading this and set it aside.

Then I realized that the letter wasn't from my paternal grandmother, who lived in the same small town as my family, but my maternal grandma. She died in 1982, I think. Suddenly this letter went from being a big find to a bigger find. My mom's mom lived a couple hours away from us and died when I was in second grade, if memory serves. While I remember her, I didn't know her as well.

Obviously I had to continue reading. From clues in the letter it must have been sent in late January/early February 1979. Apparently I had been sick and missing school, which she mentions knowing that I hated. She talked about the weather. It had been snowing a lot.

She also wrote about not taking her pain pills for a week and deciding to do her laundry rather than having her sister coming over to do it. What she wrote says a lot about her and, I think, a lot about my family:

"I can't sit here in this rocker the rest of my life. So thought I would see if I could manage. I hurt afterwards but then I hurt anyway so might as well have a reason for hurting."

She wrote about crocheting little toys for us kids and that it sounded like my mom was crocheting a lot. The latter portion of the letter is her writing directions for some crochet project from a book or magazine as best as she could remember.

I imagine if I hadn't started knitting that this would have ended up in the trash. If I didn't knit, I'd have no reason to have this paperback crochet book in my possession. I think I've had this for at least a couple years and hadn't ever looked through it, thus tonight's discovery. I'm still kind of dazed by getting this glimpse of my grandmother so many years later.