Neighborlies

We cannot live only for ourselves.

A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men.

~Herman Melville

There is a magical fusion between two words that evolves over time if one is open to it.

The word "Neighbor" meets, courts, proposes and marries "Family". They become the "Neighborlies" and stay tight through all the ups and downs and in-betweens of life. It is with gratitude that I know this "word-couple" personally. 

Several years ago, Danny, the retired Shillington police officer who lives across the street, gave me an article written about the block we live on. In the 20's, 30's and 40's, this block housed many young families, with children outnumbering bedrooms within any given house. The children grew up to serve their country during World War 2 and the families went so far as to construct a modest memorial where the street once ended at the cornfield to recognize the boys from the neighborhood who became men abroad. A few came home, many did not. The bond that grew between families was real and it grew through the 50's, 60's and 70's. The author of the article reminisced of the way it was, and wrote with sadness that it is vastly different today.

But it is not.

If he lived in this little section of our block of which he wrote, he would discover that neighbor and family has blended into 'neighborlies' that have populated across several front porches. There are porches that lead into homes of those who are living out the winter of their lives in the same home they've lived in for 60+ years. The walls have witness brides being carried over the thresholds, men walking through on the dreary day they lost their job, a girl skipping over the welcome mat to tell her mother she was asked to the dance and the guy who silently sneaks in after curfew, only to find his mother waiting by candlelight, with pink Velcro curlers in her hair. The walls of these homes could speak volumes. The "new" families that reside along with those who know this place well, have also sensed the community they live in and share of themselves. Not every single person, of course, but mostly everyone.

My children absolutely LOVE Dolly and Aunt Carol and Uncle Joe directly across the street from our house. I call their porch the "happy porch" because during the summer, when our porches are the preferred "room" of the house, I would take my miserable son over there and the second his chubby little feet hit their green outdoor carpet, he was suddenly Mr. Congeniality. Their presence in his life is truly a bright spot. Because of them, he loves miniature marshmallows (found tucked inside plastic Easter eggs), fly swatters (a scepter) and a multi-colored feather duster (a vacuum). Because of them, I know I have a safe place for my children if ever I'm in a bind. In Danny, my children have a great-grandpa. He's a little rough around the edges but it's clear he looks forward to their visits. Because of Danny, I was able to acquire his late wife's (Annie!) pastry cutter and it make my experimental pie crusts so much easier to make. There are other 'neighborlies' that I could mention, but for the sake of time, I will wait.

After 4 years of living here, I grow more thankful every day that God has given me "neighborlies". He gives them to all of us, I suppose (unless we live in the Sahara). We do not chose them, thus it may not be the most natural of relationships at first. Give it time, an open heart and an open life. You might find a few neighborlies on your block as well. I hope you do!


On another note, my dad took my little guy for his first "big boy haircut" on Saturday while I was on a tour in NYC. And now he is a little man. He "talks" more, as if it certified him to be a little adult. I still find myself staring at him (so that's what your head shape looks like!) and kissing his chubby cheeks about a hundred times a day-the cut made them look chubbier. I can't resist.


We drink Maxwell House Lite coffee, for anyone who cares (which is probably no one). It is 1/2 the caffeine and so I drink twice the cups in the morning!!! It is similar to my strategy when a pie or danish is sitting in front of me at the dinner table. I'll say (out loud) "Oh my, I'm just so full, but I'll just cut a little piece here just to be nice." Half by half, the dessert diminshes and I cast furative glances to see if anyone is noticing just how much this 'full' gal is consuming! I should just snarf (my word) the whole thing down and be done with it. Yep, that will be the day...


Have a contented day my friend, and join me again sometime!