They live next door. Their politics are not the same as ours; their family life moves in different circles from ours. We are friendly but will never be the best of friends. Yet these are our helpful neighbors.
They pick up our newspaper when we are gone, and wheel out the garbage cans. They collect any mail left showing. And we do the same for them. They will accept a package or lend us chairs or utensils. They are the ones to go to for the missing eggs that brought the baking project to a halt. And we would do the same for them. They are people we could call in any emergency, and I hope they would feel the same.
They are the helpful neighbors.