Just Visiting, or here for the long run?

We just got some "new neighbors"--figuratively (as many African-Americans in Cole/Whittier refer to white people) and literally.They bought the house right next door. Last year at this time we had nice Mexican neighbors that didn't take care of their house, and wouldn't call the cops when crime was occurring on the block. Today, we have nice white neighbors that take care of their house and have already called the cops when they witnessed some 'hood shenanigans. I'm not ashamed to say that I think we made out pretty well in that trade.Don't get me wrong, I loved our old neighbors--They were a very sweet family and had great kids and grandkids--The best on the block in fact--but their house was a blemish on an otherwise improving block. And while I feel bad that their home went into foreclosure, no one forced them to borrow $25k against their house in a risky ARM. Oh, the good and bad of gentrification.Our new neighbors are interestingly enough the second white family to move here from the mountains since we've lived here. Part of me honestly wonders "What the feck were you thinking leaving the peace and quiet of the mountains for the barrio?" But I know the answer. $4 a gallon gas and the promise of a 5 minute commute. Lots of what drew us here (though we actually were pretty forward thinking since we re-urbanized before it was chic to do so).The night before they moved in was a classic example of the drama you rarely see in the suburbs, but see quite regularly in the city. Still don't know exactly what happened, but it involved two Mexican families, a bunch of shouting of "East Side" and "South Side," one of the families emptying out of their rented house into the street carrying two-by-fours, and then no less than six police cars. And I had a front-row seat. You could pay money for this kind of entertainment in Vegas I'm sure, but I get it every week for free. It Cole's version of West Side Story. Historia del lado oeste perhaps.All I kept thinking when I watched it all unfold was "I'm sure glad they close on their new house tomorrow." And thank Chickenlooper, when they drove up in their yuppie-car caravan the next day to unload all their stuff, lo and behold, it was a quiet night in Cole.We love our new neighbors--They're really nice, they keep a good house, they're not selling the rock, you know, all the basics. But we do worry how much they can really take of Cole before they become at best disenchanted, at worst, "former" residents.Cole is changing, no doubt, but you couldn't pick much more of a contrast from the mountains. It's like eating tofu burgers for ten years and then suddenly switching to the Baconator.In the mountains they worried about bears; here they worry about gang bangers and crack dealers. There they awoke to fresh, cool air and the sound of wind in aspens; here they will quickly learn how to identify when the Purina plant is cookin' up horses (or whatever they put in their dog food) and the sound of the ghetto bird.You get the idea. How much will they be able to take before they, like me clearly, have soured on all the bullshit that comes with living in the city?I hope a lot. Because sure enough, the third day they were here, they saw our punk-ass neighbor kid selling rock with his "homeys". Welcome to the 'hood, neighbors.