For months he remained a mystery.

B LOVIN

That’s the license plate on his blue Ford truck.

Though his truck is parked kitty corner from my house, we had yet to make a sighting.

Until one day about three months ago: we were driving along, not far from my house, when we came up on B LOVIN.

He was braked at the stoplight – the first one you reach from our village, with plans to turn either right toward town or left toward the freeway.

Allow me to explain a bit. I live in a mobile home park. The entrance sign says “village.” Far from the stereotype, it’s mostly quaint. People are kind. And loving.

In fact, I’d venture to say it’s just the sort of place you’d expect to spot a message of world peace within the abbreviated expanse of six characters:

B LOVIN

Naturally, we suspected he was the kind to wave back. So we crept forward to his right and – catching his attention – offered an oddly knowing, enthusiastic wave.

He simply nodded, and from his silhouette inside the cab, we observed his full, curly beard. Perhaps the brunette version of Santa Claus? (He looked rotund as well.)

“B LOVIN! We finally saw B LOVIN!” we cried to ourselves.

What we want is what we need

But the encounter was brief – and the silhouette and nod only intensified our curiosity.

People who live in my neighborhood quietly mind their own business. Shoved into the elbow of our city’s limits – where two freeways meet – our houses, with their thin walls, tolerate the speeding motor hum day and night.

We’re not exactly trying to advance in the world or to retreat. We’re holding our ground (the ground that we rent).

What we want is what we need. A simple, comfortable space with four walls and a roof.

No worries, if a tornado comes and threatens our walls and roofs, we have a community shelter made out of concrete block.

When the worst weather strikes, you can flee to the shelter that will withstand the storm. There are some leaks and puddles and metal folding chairs. Lit by sparse, clear light bulbs, the damp darkness will do for about the length of 30 minutes to an hour.

And our pets matter. Neighbors bring their cats and their dogs. Barking ensues and, with the howling winds outside, the shelter becomes one glorious cacophony of humanity, nature and the animal kingdom.

This neighborhood has the right elements to develop universal peace. To give birth to everlasting love. To:

B LOVIN

A doo doo or love?

I was driving home one night not too long ago. As I neared my little driveway, I saw two people walking their dog.

I slowed, put on my blinker and slowed even more. The dog was moving so slowly – in fact, I began to feel awkward and like I wanted to reverse and disappear.

Perhaps my arrival was putting them in an embarrassing predicament?

The dog appeared to be squatting (a doo doo?) in the driveway I intended to occupy in mere seconds.

They got him to scuttle to the side, and I pulled in with the intention of letting it pass.

As I got out of the car, the man kindly called out: “So sorry! Our dog is sick. He can’t walk very well.”

His graceful plea immediately broke through my self-centered concerns about my space.

I came closer.

“He probably has about one week left to live. We will bring him to the vet soon. He really wanted to go for a walk tonight, even though it’s so cold, and we didn’t have the heart to say no.”

I watched as the dog continued into the street – his hind legs partly dragging behind.

My heart was moved. A dog with an iron will to live. To enjoy his world – this simple, dark, cold street that would be his last journey, legs or no legs.

In a spirit of neighborliness, I then asked, “Where do you live?”

He pointed to the house kitty corner from mine.

It dawned on me.

“Wait, are you B LOVIN?!” I cried.

He bent over with a big smile, laughing. And so did I.