On Neighbors

I grew up mostly in a little house out beyond the suburbs of Seattle. Now, of course, it is the suburbs, and the actual house that I lived in is out in an area that takes 4 times as long to get to now during rush hour than it used to (sigh). But, back in the day (25 years ago or so), that neighborhood was the sort of place that a 7 year old could run willy nilly. We’d build forts in “the woods”, go to “the pond” to catch frogs, ride our bikes all over a 2 block radius from our homes. Those two blocks felt like an entire kingdom. And at 5pm, you could hear all of the kids’ names being hollered out from their homes, echoing out and calling us all back in for dinner.

In the neighborhood were all sorts of characters: the mean lady, the recluse, the crazy family, the rich kid, the really poor kids, the house that had 20 cars and their parts on the lawn. In retrospect, I can see that it was a poor neighborhood (except for that one rich kid) and the “really poor kids” were in a state beyond poverty. But, for me, the amount of money we had didn’t matter one lick. I had such a rich childhood there, full of huckleberry picking, walks to the lake, running about with my friends. And, I think, the depth of that was based in the fact of good neighbors. The owner of the house on one side of ours became a dear and very close family friend. The “mean lady” was bristly at first meet, but she would have protected our house and family with her last breath. . . loyal and true and mean (not to mention the kool-aid popsicles I ate there by the hundred!). My mom navigated single motherhood with the help of so many of those families. I always knew, without a single doubt, that I could go to any one of those houses to ask for help negotiating a “fight” with a friend, to use a bathroom, to grab a snack.

Now that I’m a mother living in an age that keeps children in closer range of home (for legitimate reasons), I find myself feeling sad that Abby most likely won’t have the run of our neighborhood the way I did mine. I’m not as close to all of my neighbors the way my mother was. . . in honesty, I don’t know the names of most of the people on my block.

But, I do know my neighbors on either side.

To the East are two houses, you can see both in this picture. The closest is owned by a family that keeps it vacant unless they are here for holidays or visiting. The people in the farther house look after the yard and maintain the home right next to me. They also rent a mother-in-law to a wonderful couple with so many dogs and cats that we won’t ever want for a pet because we can visit those.

To the west is an amazing couple that have lived in that house for more than 50 years. Violet and Paul are in their 90′s and have become very important to us. Though we don’t see them very often, when we do, it’s like having a second set of grandparents. Until just last year, Paul got out his power-edger and edged not only his own sidewalk, but ours too. Violet was always quick to loan her canner or share her home-grown tomatoes. They are exactly what good neighbors should be: helpful, open, kind, but not overly nosy. Paul’s had two strokes in fairly close succession and their independence seems to have waned quite a bit. I see the Schwan’s truck delivering food more, the lawn gets raggedy (something that would NEVER have happened before), their grandkids (who are my age) seem to be around a bit more. Paul doesn’t get out much anymore and I worry that his time with us may be short. Violet couldn’t do it on her own.

So, when we got home from the madness last summer, I started making extra soup. Whenever I made a pot, I made sure to double the recipe. Abby and I deliver a quart or two of soup every week or two. Violet is so gracious, I know it partly kills her that it’s one-sided right now. Last week, I told her that I believe in “paying it forward.” I know that she and Paul have been amazing neighbors to whoever lived in this house for the last 50 years. Even though we’ve only gotten 5 years with them (so far), it’s my pleasure to give them a little something with nothing in return for a while. As far as I’m concerned, it all comes back around in some form or another and I’ve already received so much from this community that they helped create.   I received so much support and love in my own childhood neighborhood.  Goodness knows I owe a lot of kids some popsicles.  I’m glad to pay it back in some small ways, one jar of soup at a time.