Neighborhood Watch

By Sean McVeigh

With the nicer weather finally here, I am no longer forced to be holed up in my home with a three-month-old baby and a three-year-old dog. I am now free to walk for as long as I’d like, wherever I’d like, across the beautiful Rockaway peninsula.

As it happens, Rockaway Beach Boulevard is my preferred sauntering ground. There is just something about how wide it is. The bike lanes and the median make the traffic seem farther away than it really is. Cronston can be nice at times, especially when you’re looking for some peace and quiet. And Newport is just too small — you feel like the cars are on top of you. All in all, RBB takes the cake for my personal preference.

While most of the time I stick strictly to the boulevard, one of the added benefits is that, if I am feeling a little more adventurous — or maybe just in the mood to be overcome with a sweeping bout of avarice — it allows me to venture up and down the beach blocks of Belle Harbor and Neponsit.

Up and down I go, with a dog and stroller in tow, staring longingly at these behemoth homes.

I find it fun to imagine who lives in some of these monsters — these double plots with tennis courts and pools just steps from the beach.

More importantly, I like to dream that one day that scratch-off will hit and one of them will be mine. (Deadly sin, check. Broken commandment, check.) I think about what changes I’ll make. “How could they have painted it such a gaudy color?” “What the heck is that outdoor décor?” “They must be from Brooklyn,” are just some of the thoughts that spring into my head.

But the absolute best part of this whole exercise in covetousness is that I can stare at these houses, and no one has an issue with it, because I have the ultimate defense: a baby and a dog. They are like an invisibility cloak — except instead of invisibility, they grant me the power of innocuousness.

I am a big, slob of a boy-man. If I were walking down nice streets staring at people’s houses, they might be concerned. If not concerned, at least a little suspicious. But you throw a leash in my hand and a stroller in front of me, and all of a sudden, I am the least suspected person in the world. Just a good dad out for a stroll. It’s truly something of a superpower.

One of the funnier things about becoming a father has definitely been the number of strangers who feel comfortable talking to you. I am not saying it’s a bad thing, it is just a bit odd. I guess having the baby just gives off a sense of harmlessness. I’ll take it.

So if you happen to see me wandering down your block this summer, don’t mind me. I’m just out for my daily walk. Just a benign dad with a stroller, a dog, and aspirations well beyond his tax bracket — and maybe quietly judging your exterior paint choices.