When I was about six or seven, a new neighbor moved in next door to us. My bedroom window faced his house and I could hear him yelling. The next day, more yelling. He seemed to be yelling at nobody…or everybody.
I announced to my family that I was going to call him “Man-a-Yell.” It made sense, right? He was a man. He yelled. He was Man-a-Yell. That name stuck. He probably lived there another 15 years and we never called him by his real name. Always Man-a-Yell. And Man-a-Yell was committed to keeping the name apparently. He never did stop yelling. In fact, I associate the name Man-a-Yell so closely with this man that as I thought about writing this, I considered that he may find it if he were to Google his name. But then I remembered that his name isn’t really Man-a-Yell. And we never dared tell him about this nickname for fear his yelling may be directed at us.
When he moved out we thought, “Great! No more Man-a-Yell.” But the people who moved in weren’t much better. I remember my dad saying, “At least Man-a-Yell took care of his yard.”
The neighbors on either side of us here in Atlanta aren’t particularly loud (except for the three barking dogs next door). But we can see into the house directly behind us. We’re a little bit up on a hill so I suspect that while we can see right into their window, they probably can’t see into ours. I know a man and a woman live there (and maybe some kids, not sure…it’s a different neighborhood) but I’ve never actually seen them. All I can see in this window is their TV. And I always imagine that the man is sitting their watching it. Never the woman. Always the man. And he watches A LOT of TV. He loves American Idol, Dancing with the Stars and sports. Oh, and he Tivos a lot of these shows. I see the screen rewinding and fast forwarding a lot.
Sometimes we’re watching the same thing. “Hey, Frank, come see!” I’ll say. “The guy behind us is also watching The Office! But he’s ahead of us. Oh, no. I see what’s going to happen!”
He also watches TV early in the morning on the weekends. I saw him watching ESPN on Sunday morning. That’s when I told Frank we needed to give him a nickname. I immediately thought of Man-a-Yell. So as a tribute to Man-a-Yell, I will call this guy Man-a-TV.
We’ll never be friends. I’ll never know his real name. But I’ll always have a special place in my heart for Man-a-TV. Or at least a special place at my kitchen window.
3 comments:
I recall coming home once and finding the police outside of Man-a-Yell's house. One of the officers was posted in our drive. I parked on the street and inquired about the matter ("Not to be nosy, officer.") He replied that it was "just a little situation." After we moved, I thought about running a criminal history check on him (just out of curiosity), but realized I still didn't know his real name.
Maybe one day he'll be on the "Most Wanted" list and it will say "Also goes by the name Man-a-yell."
You may need your sweater...the air conditioning is pretty cold...at least until after you've had a couple drinks.
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