We have quite a cast of characters in our neighborhood...Besides being a rather multi-ethnic neighborhood (Latinos/Hispanics, Asians, African-Americans, Indians, WASPs), there is the crazy lady who stole our planters, the other crazy lady with all the birdfeeders and lawn ornaments, "Pat" who walks his/her westie every night, the very nice neighborhood lesbians, the middle aged unicycle rider, not to mention the wildlife. There are hoards and hoards of bunnies that have overrun the place this spring (we counted 9 over the course of a 20 minute walk earlier this week), as well as the usual cast of woodland creatures that call the 'burbs home.
Even our house has two previous owners who used to be characters themselves. There is the little old Japanese lady we bought it from who loved to garden and pruned half the bushes into bonsai. Before her, our house was owned in the 1970s by an Italian stone mason which explains the piles of brick, slate, and tile laying around the property, and the medieval stone fireplace in the basement. Also explains the laundry room which is 200 square feet of tile from floor to ceiling, and the rumor that there is a wine cellar in the floor of the shed (which happens to contain 50 years of crap that we are going to rent a dumpster in order to dispose of).
So despite all the wackiness that surrounds our little bit of the 'burbs, I saw the best character of all today: A youngish black kid, wearing a fair amount of bling, riding a fancy recumbant bicycle, with a boom box strapped to the back blaring hard core rap. And he was singing along. Out of tune. It was awesome.