While door knocking for political campaigns in recent years, I’ve noticed a dramatic uptick in the number of homes with some form of camera security system. It’s slightly disconcerting to walk up to the front door of a house and realize that your every move and grimace is being documented. It seems especially ironic to pass right by cute little “Welcome” signs or to be standing on a “Welcome” door mat, with a camera lens aimed at you.

I’ve tried to be non-judgmental about the whole security craze that has taken America by storm. I believe it has been carried far and wide on the wings of marketing and yellow journalism. It’s similar to what happens when pharmacy companies barrage our screens with ads about yellow teeth, ugly toenails, and restless leg syndrome (RLS). We suddenly find ourselves wondering, Are my eyes white? Are my teeth bright? Are my toenails smooth? Is it RLS that’s keeping me awake at night?  Who ever thought about such maladies before drug manufacturers discovered new ways to separate us from our money? Same with doorbell cams.

My home is one of seven row homes within a half mile of a university; it’s two blocks from a state road and 50 feet from a neighborhood arterial.  Across the street from our row community is an doctor’s office complex with a large, well-lit parking lot. We get our share of drunken yahoos schlepping down the street between 11 pm and 2 am on weekends. But other than making an alarming amount of racket, I’ve never heard of anything bad happening as a result. I’ve lived here for 20 years. I do try to keep my doors locked. Our homes are so similar and close together that it is not at all unusual for strangers to walk in, thinking they are at the house next door. But that’s what locks are for. One time the couple to the north of me had the license plate stolen off their car. Aside from that, we’ve not experienced a lot of crime here.

A young single woman lives two doors to the south of me. Her father installed a ring doorbell on her property after she endured a messy boyfriend breakup. The house between us and right beside me has been a rental for as long as I’ve lived here. The owners are great people and have always rented to quality tenants. This year, their college age daughter moved in and is living there by herself. Apparently she is a bit frightened living in a 3-bedroom house alone. Daddy installed a doorbell cam last week. The doorbell cam comes with software that alerts the owner to every movement outside the house, as well as every crime in the broader neighborhood. Now the poor girl is really frightened, because yes, of course, there are things going on in the wider community, mostly porch pirates and the occasional peeping perv.

I went outside yesterday to wash my windows after the neighbor had left for school. I’d barely gotten situated on my stepstool when I got a call from next-door Daddy. “My daughter says you’ve got someone cleaning your windows.”

To be clear, I’m sure this was his way of helping me secure my property as well as his opportunity to get a lead on a good window washer. I don’t really take offense at this. But now I feel like every time I step around the corner of my house I’m being watched. It’s just a very weird feeling. And I suspect that all the information the poor neighbor girl gleans from her spyware adds to her insecurity.