A Riddle, Wrapped in a Mystery, Inside an Enigma, With a Side of Cheese Fries, Please

Back to blogging with my three co-bloggers!  Each week, one of us chooses a topic and we all post a blog entry on that topic, usually on Thursdays.  (Usually we are on time.  Usually.  Ok, mostly.  Sometimes?  Don’t judge me.)

Here are the links to the other fabulous blogs:

Merryland Girl           

Froggie 

Moma Rock

This week, I chose the topic, and I asked:  Do you consider yourself a conspiracy theorist?

            The first time I recall ever hearing the title “conspiracy theorist” was in my second year of law school, during a Juries class.  A 3L asked some bizarre question – I don’t remember what it was – prompting the professor to say, “I consider myself a bit of a conspiracy theorist, as well.”  We all laughed.  Well, maybe not the 3L, but the rest of us.

            I’ve thought about the subject over the years, but never really labeled myself one way or another.  Sure, I enjoyed the movie JFK and liked to think there was something more at work besides a single crazed assassin, but I didn’t think that made me a conspiracy theorist.

            And then I moved to Tennessee.

            Specifically, I moved to a large subdivision in the Blackman area of Rutherford County, into a new house surrounded by neighbors who, essentially, keep to themselves.  I always have the need to fill a void, and so I found myself idly wondering about their lives behind those always-closed doors and curtained windows.  I didn’t give it too much thought … until things started happening.

            First, the neighbors on one side disappeared.  Poof!  They were there one day and the next they were gone.  No cars in the driveway, no kids in the yard; even the play set disappeared.  A family of four and their nanny, just gone. 

            Of course I was curious.  We hadn’t seen a “for sale” or even a “for rent” sign in the yard.  We hadn’t seen a moving truck.  We hadn’t seen anything unusual at all.  But there were no signs of life, other than the interior garage light and some external lighting.  Blinds were down.  All was quiet.

            My mind went crazy.  Where had they gone?  Did the bank foreclose on their house?  Was there a family emergency?  Or – and I admit my brain went there – was there a murder-suicide??  (In my defense, I state the following:  (a) I watch ID Channel approximately 23 hours per day; and (b) when I told my Mom about my vanishing neighbors, her brain went to the exact same place.)

            I spent hours considering the possibilities.  I surreptitiously walked the perimeter of their house, looking for clues.  I may or may not have even Googled their address to see what I could find.  There, I discovered my first clue:  an expired Craigslist “house for rent” ad.  But if they rented the house, where were the new tenants?  And why didn’t they take their stuff?  Finally, when I could take no more, I texted their nanny; she had given me her number months earlier when I approached her about some weekend evening babysitting (I double-checked that she didn’t work for them on weekends – I’m not a babysitter poacher).  She told me where they went and why.  A few days later, the husband pulled up with a moving van and removed most of the furnishings.  He filled me in on the rest, how they moved because of his wife’s job in Nashville and the long drive blah blah blah.

            Mystery solved.  Not too exciting, but at least there won’t be a Dateline episode filmed on my block. 

            A few months passed, and my stupid gall bladder surgery kept me in the house, away from my neighbors.  The holidays followed, bringing with them yet another chance for neighborly surmising.  Several of my neighbors travel for work, including the husband of one of the families on my street.  His pattern seems to be gone for about 20 days, home for about 10, give or take.  I know this because I am home most days and I see his car in the driveway when he is home, and because my kids have befriended his kids.  Shortly before Christmas, his kids mentioned that they were having an early Christmas because he would be traveling for work – on Christmas.  I paused.  This seemed odd.  Whose job prevented them from being with family on Christmas?  Especially one so close to a weekend?  First responders and hospital and restaurant staff aside, everyone gets to be home (or near home) for Christmas – even the President!  I don’t know my neighbor’s exact job, but I do know he is a consultant, not something I would equate with needing to be absent on December 25.  I thought about it, theorized as to where he could be. 

            I’m almost ashamed to share my answer.  I blame the creators of all Lifetime movies ever, because I thought, “Maybe he has a second family.”

            I felt better when I told my Mom about his absence and she said, “Maybe the family you know is his second family.”  (I have no doubts as to why I think the way I think.)

            This mystery remains unsolved.  I am not done considering possible scenarios.

            But I must pause, as another mystery has entered the fray.

            Our neighbor on the other side is a single dad who has his boys roughly half the time.  When I met him, I also met his girlfriend and her daughter; they weren’t living in the house, but they did a lot of time there, at least from what I could tell by the cars in the driveway.  Two weekends ago, I headed up to the Nashville Flea, leaving my husband and the kids at home.  That evening, my husband asked if our neighbor had said anything about moving out (he literally just moved in six months ago), as he had seen a small moving truck in the driveway.

            He had my attention.

            My husband didn’t watch to see if the neighbor was moving stuff in or out, (what is wrong with him??), but I had been inside the house early on and it had seemed fully furnished.  My brain went to work.  What could he need with a moving truck?

            I didn’t give this one too much thought, as I assumed maybe he had gotten some new furniture or some such thing.  But then, last week, the light bulb went off.  I had not seen the girlfriend’s car in a long time.  Weeks; certainly more than a month.  I wondered, Did they break up?  Was the truck for her stuff?  Are we looking at another Dateline mystery?  (I know it wasn’t a murder-suicide because I’ve seen his truck coming and going, but it still leaves lots of other options . . . ).  Do I have any single friends who might like him?

            I’ve paid some attention to the comings and goings next door, and the girlfriend’s car has yet to reappear.  I’m assuming the most prosaic scenario, a break up, but I consider this mystery as “open.”  I sure hope the case doesn’t go cold.

            Now, I realize that you might be thinking that all of this makes me less of a conspiracy theorist and more of a nosy neighbor, but I would argue that it’s a distinction without a difference.  I believe the same intellectual curiosity lies at the heart of both labels.  I?  Am a seeker of the truth.  I need explanations.  And, truly, there is something fun (for me, anyway) in trying to solve a mystery of sorts.  What’s more interesting:  a lone shooter, or a vast government conspiracy involving LBJ?  It’s a no-brainer. 

           

            Last week, I was walking with my neighbor, Kym.  She lives in my subdivision, but not on my block.  I was telling her the latest mystery/conspiracy, looking for her theories. 

            I said, “This neighborhood sure is full of intrigue.” 

            She looked at me with just a touch of a smirk and said, “I think it’s just your block.”

            Now, what in the world could she mean by that??