Patient endurance is the good that he is due, the good that I am obliged to provide, in part because certain privileges come with that relationship and certain duties attach to these roles. Suppose my neighbors boy listens to music of the same sort. Like my son he’s a good kid. He doesn’t play his music all that loud or late at night, but still, there he is, washing his mother’s car in the driveway with that noise thumping from the speakers. Dozing in the hammock next door, I can’t resist finding it objectionable, at least at first, and yet in this instance my dis-ease is different. It’s not what I feel when I hear the same music coming from my son’s bedroom. Why not? Surely it’s because I don’t worry as much about its effects on his soul. He is not my son after all, and I am neither authorized nor obliged to care for his welfare in quite the same way. Nor am I concerned with the harm that our disagreements about music might do to the community we share or to the neighborly peace that we both desire. In fact, I doubt our disagreement about this can generate these harms. Neighborhoods are not families and most do not depend for their survival on the substantial union of loves that families tend to have. Not that neighborhoods survive without shared loves of some sort, but rather that the loves shared among neighbors are neither as broad nor as deep as those that bind families.