|The strange place.|
This couple was, I'm sure, harmless. What grievous sin they did commit was in letting their front yard go to seed. Grass grew wild, waist-high. Shrubs, untrimmed, reached for ungainly heights. The front walk was crowded over with weeds. The house itself grew foreboding, darker somehow (maybe I'm only recalling the house during fall and winter months), and even stranger, and walking past on my way to the public library I sensed a (pre-language) sadness about the place, as if something was going wrong inside. The wildness of the front lawn seemed riotously unsafe and glaring, an unseemly Yes to chaos and disorder — all of this intuited strangely by me, and obviously only half-comprehended. I kind of loved and feared the place. I remember my parents and their friends whispering behind their hands about the couple and their atrocious yard work. I never saw the two anywhere, ever; but for the few times I glimpsed them out front or coming in and out, they seemed to me to exist permanently on the inside.
Photo of Levvittown via The Art Of Manliness.