November 15, 2008
We have a neighbor my kids call “the Sim.” Many mornings while my kids stood at the bus stop, waiting to go to school, this particular woman would walk out of her house, stare at her yard, walk a few more steps, stare at her yard again, then go back into her house—her actions seemingly as random and pointless as a character in the Sims computer games.
My kids were in middle school then, so of course neither they nor their friends dared to ask, “Excuse me, ma’am. What are you doing? What are you thinking about when you stare like that—crabgrass? Dandelions? A long-lost love? A family tragedy? A body buried...