What kind of neighbor are you? I ask because we recently lost the family next door, and the folks who replaced them aren't exactly holding up their end of the traditional neighborly bargain.

No, my previous neighbors didn't die -- they moved to Rolesville. My wife, Nan, and I were saddened when we learned the news because "John" and "Mary" were the kind of neighbors one usually finds only in Frank Capra movies.

Example: I didn't have a lawnmower when we moved to Raleigh from south Florida in 1999, so on our second day in our new house John came over on his rider and mowed my overgrown backyard. Just to be friendly.

And a few years ago, when we found ourselves without water for several days due to septic tank problems, John and Mary graciously gave us a blanket invitation to use their master bathroom anytime and for any purpose. And boy were we grateful, especially the morning after chili night.

I jokingly referred to John as "my personal Hank Hill," after the laconic cartoon character who has every tool known to man and actually knows how to use them. When the lawnmower I finally bought broke down, John tinkered with the engine until it purred like a kitten.

Then he sharpened the blade. Just to be friendly.

So yes, we were a little upset when these beloved neighbors pulled up stakes, but excited, too, at the prospect of getting new ones. I'm a sociable guy who enjoys making new friends, and I was really looking forward to bringing our new neighbors a pan of brownies (I make great brownies), sticking out my hand and saying, "Welcome to the neighborhood, friend!"

Unfortunately, that has yet to happen.

Not that we haven't tried. As our new neighbors moved into their new digs, Nan and I waited for just the right opportunity to run outside, shout a hearty hello over the fence and get our friendship rolling.

The trouble was, our neighbors acted more like ninjas than ... well, whatever it is they do. We almost never saw them, and when we did it was only for an instant. I'm pretty sure Bigfoot has been seen more often than these people.

We finally decided to take the initiative and schlepped across the front yard one afternoon when we were fairly certain they were home, our introductions at the ready. We knocked and knocked on their front door but no one answered, though I'm pretty sure we were being eyeballed through the living room drapes.

I have to admit, this kind of behavior puzzles me. How can one human being live next door to another and not want to have at least a cordial, over-the-fence relationship? After all, it's not as if I'm asking for an all-access pass to their bathroom or free lawnmower repair.

All I want is an occasional wave and a smile, though at this point a surly grunt and a half-hearted nod would make me happy.

So what kind of neighbor are you?

The kind who shows up with brownies in hand, ready to start what you just know will be a long and enduring friendship, or the kind who peers suspiciously through the drapes and doesn't answer the door?

Trust me, the first kind is better because you never know when you're going to need a helping hand, and a helping hand comes more readily from someone who knows your name.

Oh, and if you're my new neighbors and you're reading this -- come on over and say hello. I think you'll find me to be a pretty nice guy.

Give me some advance notice, and I'll even whip up a pan of brownies.