Mind Your McManners

Rules Can Smooth the Introduction of a Big House on the Block

I woke up one recent morning and glanced out to find that the gorgeous eight-foot flowering quince bushes that divided my neighbor's property from mine had vanished.

The quinces had spread their roots and luscious crimson blossoms onto my side of the property line for 20 years. Now, they were just . . . gone. A few feet away from a backhoe on the new neighbor's lawn, tacked to a 15-foot wooden tripod, was a bright yellow Montgomery County "New Construction" permit notice.

What upset me more than the change in the appearance of my front yard was the unexpected nature of it -- there was no warning from my new neighbor or his contractor.

I know that my neighbors-to-be are good citizens, involved in their schools and their churches and on boards of charitable organizations. I work as a life coach, and that experience led me to wonder what makes this relationship -- between new owners who want vast new houses and veteran residents in smaller houses -- unworthy of the same courtesies and manners that we routinely extend to other people, such as those we know from school or church. What's really missing?

The answer, in human, rather than real estate terms, is trust, respect and acknowledgment. So, what stands in the way of creating these?

At bottom, I am convinced that many new owners are fearful that a good deed never goes unpunished. If they discuss their plans in advance or make any kind of friendly approach, they will pay as litigious neighbors push them to compromise on their dream house.

From the perspective of the established resident, the anticipated change to the status quo threatens the ideal of "home" and creates resentment and anger.

The challenge is to defuse this fear and resentment before they become entrenched, and to accept that neighborliness is a relationship that's worth the investment.

Ultimately it may be as simple as taking a risk by doing the right thing. For established residents, that means recognizing the legitimacy of the newcomer's housing decisions. For newcomers, it means accepting that the folks next door may have something to offer. I mean, how am I going to borrow a cup of sugar and how are you going to ask me to look out for your house when you travel if we won't even introduce ourselves?

At our house, despite the unfortunate quince, we have been lucky. We began chatting with our new neighbors when they would drop by to inspect the construction. They -- and their builder -- have tried to make this all easier. So, as a reminder to all of us, I offer the Mansionization Manners Guide.

For the New Neighbors

· Introduce yourself. That seems pretty logical, doesn't it? Knock on the door and say hello. Demystify the situation. Let your new neighbors see that you're a decent person with good intentions, even if you have differing ideas about how many bathrooms a family of four actually needs. Ask about the neighborhood and their experience in it. Forge the relationship.

· Tell your neighbors what you are planning. Ask if they have particular concerns. (You will never know about the local flooding unless you ask.) Think of your neighbors' fears where change is concerned; if you were in their place, what would you be worried about?

· Be respectful. That means communication. Inform your neighbors of your timetable -- for the foundation, outside work, completion. And clue them in on major changes to that schedule.

· Don't hide behind hired help. The last thing your neighbors want is a note from your builder saying that demolition is about to start. Yes, I know it's the county notification rule, but send your own note, too. It's your home. It's your neighborhood. It's your responsibility. Sign your name, add your phone number and e-mail address.

· Don't ignore your new neighbors' attempts to get in touch with you . A friend sent two "welcome to the neighborhood" handwritten notes to her new neighbor at his old house, just after he bought the one next door to her. No response.

· Keep it clean. It's your responsibility, not the builder's. Insist that debris doesn't float onto the neighbors' yards or out in the street. If it does, clean it up. You could even offer to have your two flanking neighbors' windows cleaned when it's over. You've spent hundreds of thousands on this venture -- pitch in another $300 for the sake of neighborliness. It will go a long way.

· Keep it quiet. My elderly next-door neighbor is sick and recuperating. Other people work at home. Construction involves noise. But workers don't have to play radios from their trucks at ear-splitting volume.

· Be considerate of parking issues. Don't take up all the street spaces -- the doctor across the street has patients who have to park here, too. Don't allow your workers to park illegally on corners, block driveways or generally create difficult road conditions. Kids walk home on these streets, and if there are no sidewalks, there's an added safety concern.

For the Old-Timers:

· Introduce yourself as soon as you can. Remember the old welcome wagon? Whether you bring over cookies or the number of a lawn service in the neighborhood -- or just wave across the fence -- do something to show your new neighbors they are welcome.

· Treat the builder and his laborers with courtesy. They're working hard for a living and the owner's architectural choices aren't their fault.

· Do your due diligence. Don't jump to conclusions. Go look up the plans and see whether your concerns are justified. And you don't have to call a lawyer immediately if something isn't to your liking. Try other avenues first -- talk with the builder, try to find the owner, see if you can open a conversation. If that doesn't work, at least you will have made the effort.

· Stay involved but know when to back out. It's okay to wander over and ask whether expanding the water pipes will affect your own water pressure. It's not okay to stay camped out on the lawn for six months, eyes peeled for every violation and with the county inspector on speed dial.

· Keep things in perspective. It's only a quince bush. It can be replaced. The fuss you make now may come back to haunt you, so pick your battles.

· Remember the cliches. Change can be uncomfortable, especially if you don't remember a spring or summer in recent years without the whine of heavy equipment. The old days are gone. Your neighborhood is changing. Wishing won't bring it back. And, finally, treat your new neighbors as you would want to be treated yourself.