Mail or Male Call?

The ink wasn't even dry on the check that was used to pay our 
nemses when we received a letter. Little Lenny sent us a letter 
certified registered mail dated Feb. 28, 1989. 
The letter was kind of sad. It had a few typos and was written in quasi 
legalese. The letter used words like "heretofore" and "aforementioned". 
The letter even had initials "dar" like he has a secretary. We suspect 
it was written by his daughter in law "Debbie" who I had been told 
"writes just like a Lawyer" by Ron at the Mobile gas station. The 
letter starts 
out with the phrase "due to the ever increasing deterioration of our 
relationship as neighbors". Which is queer since we had NO relationship 
with him at all, no civil interaction for years. So how could something 
that 
doesn't exist, deteriorate?


Anyway, the issue in his letter to us was 
about us moving our mailbox from next to his...next to our entrance 
road 
to a very inconvenient location for us, about 150 feet from his. I went 
to 
the Hellertown Post Office and showed the letter to Francis Ehret, the 
Postmaster. He scoffed at the legalese and said that he was a member of 
the Hellertown Lions with Lenny and he would talk with him. 
 
In an attempt to cover our asses, I contacted the local District 
Magistrate, Diane Repyneck. I mentioned the trouble with a harassing 
neighbor and she suggested Common Ground, a newly formed mediation 
service run 
by volunteers. I contacted the Service and gave them the contact 
information. They contacted Lenny and the women was taken aback by his 
reaction. He went off, ranting about us. I am sure he told her we were 
Queers. His favorite litmus test to put feelers out. He ranted about 
his being a "widower" which we learned was his strategy for fishing for 
compassion and to manipulate. When our security light was shot out on 
Easter Sunday 
evening of that year, his lawyer alleged he was out until 2 in the 
morning. We 
suspected he was out grieving somewhere special. While waiting for a 
formal reply from the Mediation Service, I was at the Post Office in 
Hellertown getting stamps. By coincidence our neighbor was there at the 
same time. I 
was invited into the Postmaster's office suspecting a civil discussion 
with 
the Postmaster repeating what he told me before that our neighbor has 
no authority about where mailboxes should go. To my surprise it was a 
forum for our neighbor to go off. I felt trapped. Lenny started 
screaming about "how good Mary (his dead wife) and I were to you 
guys". He also kept saying  "it better not be rickety, it better not be rickety". I bit my lip and stayed cool, eventhough I wanted to say that 
he was simply acting like a 
spurned lover. It was obvious he was hurt by our rejection but that was 
his issue. I learned to stop picking up wounded birds years ago 
hoping they would heal. 
 
Any suggestions or opinions?