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I've had some interesting neighbors over the years but one family really stands out. To preface things my neighborhood is a bit unique for the area in that while it's relatively urban, lot sizes are large (1.25 acres) and zoning is quite permissive.I have a group of neighbors living across the street from me that we refer to as the hillbillies. While I've never had a bad encounter with them, they're a bit different than the rest of the neighborhood - to start with they permanently live “off the grid” with a gas generator running 24/7. The house is very small for the lot and they've brought in a few RVs and close to a dozen cars and trucks and circled them into a compound near the house for extended living space.While there are a lot of memorable things they've done from massive bonfires to mudding with their trucks in their own yard, one thing really stands out. I came home late around 2 am one night and their yard was lit up with the headlights from about a dozen trucks forming a semi-circle. In the center of the semicircle were two bobcats. No not those bobcats, these bobcats.Curious I walked to my front fence and watched as the operators drove them around in circles and raced around the yard with them. As if racing construction equipment in your own yard wasn't good enough, they commenced an impromptu demolition derby with the two bobcats ramming each other and jousting with their front loaders.I suspect it's never a dull moment on their property, and frankly a nice punctuation to the cookie-cutter mansions on other lots.

Jan 19, 2019 addendum: Up here from California again visiting Calgary friends. Today’s only in Canada moment happened when I went to Safeway this morning. With my basket, I followed several people through the interior automatic entrance door. The last lady in the group stopped and held the door until I was all the way through even though the machine was holding it open the whole time. Guess this is compulsive courtesy. Like I say at the bottom, it’s very good because it’s contagious.I was recently in Calgary visiting friends. We went to a Walmart Super Centre. There was an associate directing shoppers to the shortest lines. In a brief conversation I asked her if they charge for bags like they do where I come from in California (I did have a bag I could’ve brought like down here but not with me). So the shopper line guide found me the shortest line and then ran up to the checker and told her not to charge me for a bag. I was awestruck.At the same Walmart a bit later, I went to get a shopping cart, but they have a chain thing that requires a refundable loonie coin ($1) in the slot. I was just using CC’s and never converted my US cash. A nearby greeter associate saw my plight and just gave me a cart to use without the coin.Later on I was in a Sobey’s headed for the exit when a lady next to me spotted a loonie on the floor. So she asked me and then compulsively everyone else nearby if anyone had dropped the coin. Finally she gave it to the checker in case someone had discovered they’d lost the coin. The checker suggested she just keep it, but she wouldn’t do that. So I imagine the checker ultimately just kept it herself.At least where I was, if you get to a corner on foot and look like you want to cross, all the cars stop then and there for you. So I got in a habit of standing well back from the street if I weren’t immediately intending to cross.I walk a lot. Was walking up a sidewalk in SW Calgary, and a woman pushing a baby carriage was coming the other way. I continued on the far edge of the sidewalk to give her room. Just as we met, she apologized profusely for forcing me nearly off the sidewalk. Not quite knowing what to say, I smiled and said some variation of “no problem at all.”Last month (Jan 2018) I went with my friends to Radium Hot Springs for a soak in the huge naturally heated pool. I qualify for the senior citizen $0.90 discount and asked for that. However, the clerk rang me up for full price. I asked about it, but finally it was my mistake for approving the excessive charge on the CC terminal. A dumb thing and no big deal so I started to walk on. However, with a line forming, the clerk was extremely apologetic and said she felt really bad. The lockers require a loonie so she handed me one to have for that. It was embarrassing because I wasn’t paying attention and could’ve canceled the payment for a $0.90 do-over or simply ignore the whole little thing.Couple days later I went ice skating on a large neighborhood “Adopt-A-Rink.” I was the only one on the ice when two ladies, one with a small girl, came up to check it out. The mother then asked me if it was OK if she came on the rink and let her daughter use the balance aid that was there. I told her, “Of course, the more, the merrier.” Very rusty on ice skates (no convenient ice in California), I told the ladies I “used to be good at this.” They replied that I was “skating awesome.” But heck, they didn’t need to ask my permission to bring the child on the rink. Incredible.BTW, it’s sort of contagious. Fanatically hold the door open for people when exiting Tim’s, etc., etc..My California friends all go to Hawaii, but I can’t get enough of Canada, no matter what time of year.

This answer may contain sensitive images. Click on an image to unblur it.I wasn’t in his presence when he transitioned, but I believe he visited me in a dream shortly thereafter. Here’s the story:For months, I used to see a homeless man wandering one of the busy streets in my neighborhood. I was always in a car when I’d pass him, but I always had an inexplicable feeling of wanting to meet him. I’d never felt that way towards anyone before or since. One day, I was taking a walk down a side street and saw him walking about a half block ahead of me. I picked up my pace and literally felt a sense of joy that I was finally getting the chance to meet him.When I caught up to him, I introduced myself, found out his name was Steve and we stood in the street talking for about an hour. We formed an instant friendship as he told me all about his life, how he’d ended up homeless due to alcoholism and a few stories about his life on the streets. He wasn’t sad about his life at all, but took everything in stride. He’d been in the neighborhood for years and told me there were several people, including business owners and a few police officers, who looked out for him. He wasn’t one to beg, but he did accept meals from people who offered, as well as warm clothes, etc. To pay for his alcohol, he collected recyclables and took them to a nearby facility where he traded them for cash.I joined the ranks of people who looked out for him and considered him a friend. He had a humble spirit, was very easy to talk to and always had a pleasant disposition. When I could find him, I’d give him a home cooked meal, clean clothes and even took him for breakfast at a nearby cafe where everyone was very kind to him despite the way he looked and smelled.After a few months of getting to know him, I decided to track his family down with his permission. His mom had already passed away and his dad, as far as he knew, was still alive, but had become what he described as a holier-than-thou Christian. Soon after his dad overcame his own alcoholism, Steve said he’d kicked him and his siblings (who also had addiction issues) out of the family home following his mother’s death. Steve had a son, but didn’t know where he was and had lost touch with his siblings long ago.Researching all of their names online led me to his sister and brother-in-law who were also still in touch with one of his brothers. Because they’d all struggled with alcoholism and were clean at that time, they were elated to hear he was still alive, but also very worried about bringing him into their homes because they didn’t want to be influenced by his drinking and didn’t want their children around it. I should add that Steve was also adamant about not quitting because he was afraid of the physical pain of detoxing. He’d almost done it once while in jail for a few days and he said it almost killed him. Content with his life the way it was, he wasn’t anxious to try quitting again.Anyway, his brother-in-law (who was also in recovery and had a very rough life when he was addicted, but had been helped by someone else in the past) spearheaded a trip to our city to at least meet up with him, reunite him with his siblings, and talk to him about getting cleaned up and possibly moving in with his family. We met at a local restaurant where I excused myself after the initial greetings were out of the way, just to give them privacy and time to talk. I still remember how nervous he was and him asking me if I was going to come back and get him (we were literally on the street he walked every day, so it wasn’t that he needed a ride, he was just nervous and didn’t want me to leave him alone).Here’s a photo from that day:Long story short, all were happy to be reunited and his sister offered to take him home with her if he’d agree to rehab. He thanked her for her kind offer, but in no uncertain terms told his family that he was ok with living in the streets and that while he knew he should quit drinking, he was afraid to try. They left town agreeing to keep in touch with him through me, which they did. They often sent him letters, pictures and calling cards through the mail of which he was always happy to recieve.The last time I saw him, I’d had a letter in my car for days to give to him but hadn’t seen him walking the street where I normally did. I figured he’d been picked up by the police or maybe in the hospital (which happened from time to time) and that he’d turn up again soon. One night, I was turning the corner to my house and noticed him walking across a dark parking lot. I was exhausted, but made a U-turn to give him his mail. When I did, he got very serious for a moment, looked me in the eyes and said, “I really want to thank you for what you’ve done for me and for helping me maintain contact with my family.” I instantly felt a little ashamed because I’d been so tired I’d honestly thought about not stopping and just giving him his mail on another day. And here he was thnking me for my kindness, not knowing I’d just forced myself to make that U.A short while after that, I hadn’t seen him for several days, but had a very realistic dream. In it, I was in front of my mother’s house and there was a party going on inside. Steve walked up and, instead of the tattered clothes he usually wore, he was dressed in a buttoned down denimn shirt with a vest, was clean shaven, his blue eyes were sparkling and his formerly rotten teeth were a bright white. I touched his chest to welcome him to the party and he smiled and said he’d just stopped by to thank me for my friendship and all I’d done for him. I told him he was very welcome and I encouraged him to go inside, have some food and join the party. The last thing I remember about the dream is him sitting in a chair in the corner of my mom’s living room, next to a lamp with a bottle in his hand smiling from ear to ear.The next day, my husband and I were traveling down the street where we always saw him and I asked my husband had he seen him lately to which he replied he had not. I told him about the dream and said that I think he may have passed on. We didn’t talk anymore about it (my husband thinks I’m crazy when I say things like that, so the silence was normal, lol), but just went on about our day.A day or two later, his brother-in-law called me. Steve’s body had been found a couple of days before in front of a local business where he’d apparently passed away in his sleep. Steve had given a liquor store owner his family’s phone number to call in case of emergency and the store’s owner had given it to the police after his body had been discovered next door to the liquor store.In my heart of hearts, I know my friend is doing well, he is healthy and he is content in his new life. I’m grateful he thought enough of me to come say a final goodbye.