The Neighbors’ Window

okay, I know this is an amazing story and a fascinating comment about urban life and modern society. Yet, I have very complicated feelings around this. The original podcast story was about a friend of a friend of mine. She had no idea the podcast was being made about her and her husband’s death. She had to not only revisit the grief of losing her husband all over again–when friends sent her the podcast asking if it was about her– but also wrap her head around the thought of her last intimate moments with her husband how died far too young being invaded without her knowledge. I don’t expect everyone to agree, but if I put myself in her shoes I feel like it was kind of irresponsible of the podcaster to tell that story. Or maybe, just unthoughtful. I have no idea if the family was contacted about the making of this movie. I sure hope so.

I did hear this true story on radio some while ago. Radio (podcast) creates such an intimate feeling between storyteller and listener, especially on a long drive during the night. My heart broke a little more.

Thank you! I think I just fell in love with The Nationals. That song…that voice…how perfect.

I just finished putting our kids to bed and I opened up Cup of Jo, as I enjoy doing in the evenings a couple times a week. I couldn’t believe that there was a link to The Neighbors’ Window short because I literally was thinking about this story an hour ago when I brought the trash out and waved to my neighbor (I had heard the podcast). We live in a townhouse in Luxembourg and across the street lives an older couple. My husband and I have three small kids and we often have dance parties in our living room. I looked across the street once and saw the older man watching us – not in a creepy way but in a way that made me feel like he enjoyed watching us have a good time. Unlike the story in this short, we have become friendly with our neighbors, but when I took out the trash this evening he waved at me and it reminded me of this story. I look forward to watching the short!

When I was a kid, I used to spend hours sitting at the window looking at people on the street. It was an highly populated street with apartment buildings and stores, perfect to satisfy my child longing for stories. I came to recognize all the people who lived there and in particular I remember growing fond for a teenage couple and the girlfriend’s sister, who – I understood after watching them come and go dozens of times, often all of them three together – had a crush for the boy. I remember totally rooting for this girl who look so sweeter than her sister and desperately fantasizing about tell him the truth I was the only one to know. I don’t exactly know how their story progressed (or better, since I still have friends in that neighborhood, I know the couple married and, after having kids, splitted up quite badly, but I don’t know if the sister had ever declared her feelings or how long she had been in love with him) but I think I developed then my skill to intercept love body language. Sometimes I know one is in love with someone else before even they know (very nice when it happens), but in a few not very nice occasion I realized someone was cheating, without evidence… and it was true!

I’ve been binging through Schitt’s Creek and have gotten FAR more invested than I thought I would be.

I like to think we have an auditory variation on this with our next-door neighbors. G moved into his apartment when my husband and I moved into ours, and for the first couple of years he had a bachelor’s life: through our shared wall, we could hear lots of boots-and-pants-and-boots-and-pants techno from his stereo system, and his friends’ late-night laughter. He started dating S, and his place was dead silent for a year. A few years after that, I got used to working with the noise of their baby daughter’s cries in the background; I’ve heard a lot of infants over the years, but A always made me laugh, as from this side of the wall it sounded like her parents were performing a gentle exorcism on a mortified goat. Now she’s a little girl and her brother, N, has taken over the infant lines; A still sounds a bit like an angry goat, but that’s big sisters for you (I feel that indignation, A).
Our walls are pretty thick, and we don’t hear EVERYTHING – but we’ve caught what feels like some of the big things, and I’ve enjoyed the half-intimacy of that. G swears they don’t hear our turntable through the wall – I think this is gallantry on his part, related to the early years of late-night techno. When little A’s mother introduced me to her in the elevator one day, she blinked until I said hello. Once she heard my voice: “Oh,” she said, “you’re our neighbor!”

I remember the first time I listened to the podcast episode of this story (from the CoJ post on best podcast episodes!). I had just lost my very serious boyfriend to a sudden disease. One month he was here, the next he was gone.

I was sitting in traffic trying to hide my grief as I had been for the last several months, and this story completely wrecked me – ultimately, in a good way. It opened the door to some feelings I really needed to feel, and I truly believe it kickstarted the next phase of my grief.

I do still feel a little sorry for the other folks sitting in traffic with me who looked very concerned as I openly (and very, very loudly) sobbed in my car.

Can’t wait to watch this and cry again.

For Sama (Academy award nom for best documentary) was one of the most powerful, moving, inspiring, and heartbreaking films I have seen, ever. Highly recommend!

Loved this short film! I went a couple of weekends ago to watch the live action shorts that were nominated for Oscars this year. This one is lovely but do you self a favor and find a way to watch the rest. I was actually shocked that The Neighbor’s Window won because the others were even more stunning.

Thank you for sharing – beautiful.

My husband and I sat and watched Yesterday on Friday night, it came out last year so we were late to the party but it was one of the nicest films I have seen in ages. Just a feel good, fun film about the music by the Beatles and a guy who wanted to be a singer. It was a lovely night on the sofa with a box of Maltesers between us.

One year on Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend and I saw a man come to a woman’s door next store. We turned out the lights to watch. The man stayed in the living room while the woman went into the bedroom to get ready. We watched her get all dressed up and put on make up and perfume while he paced back and forth nervously in the living room. Then she came out and they gazed into each others eyes and left to go out. We munched on some chips and salsa while we watched. It was like watching a movie.

Now I live next store to a dorm with my husband. At one point it housed young adults with special needs in a college program. We were directly across from two girls. They hung a sign saying “We love your place.” We started writing notes back and forth and waving to each other. It was so cute!

Yes, we were those neighbours! I miss living near you guys, but it’s great that I can still follow all of your adventures (and snag your awesome style tips)! Love from Canada – teresa

Years ago when I was in grad school, I lived in an house in Eugene, OR where the upstairs windows looked directly into the windows of the apartment next door (downstairs was a travel agency–those were the days). My roommate and I became obsessed with our neighbor, a bearded fellow who appeared to play his musical instrument (a flute? a recorder? I can’t quite remember) in the bathroom. We suspected he knew how much time we spent staring at him, but it was confirmed at Halloween, when he placed his pumpkin in one of the windows facing us, and instead of a face, it was carved simply with the word “Hi.” We were both thrilled and mortified. In the end, though, we never talked to him, which now seems a shame because we never did find out the deal with the recorder in the bathroom.

In my old apartment, I could see right across the alleyway into my neighbor’s apartment. He used to pull his blinds down so that the only part of him that was visible was from his upper thigh (window sill level), to his mid-torso (bottom-of-the-blinds-level). He was always naked and it used to crack me up. I don’t know if I ever saw him on the street because the only part of him I would have recognized was his wang dang doodler. Ah, New York!

I have a distinct memory of listening to that story for the first time while driving in the car with my husband. What a gut punch. It was all we could do to grasp each other hands while tears streamed down our faces.