old IS gold

I just found out last night that my elderly neighbors across the street are selling their house. When we (my wife and I) moved into this house seven years ago, we discovered that many of our neighbors were elderly couples whose children had long since flown the coop. Unlike many of my friends who were buying homes in newer developments with lots of young kids or people of child bearing age; we bought an older home in the same town I grew up in, not really knowing what demographic my neighbors fell into. Frankly, I could not have been happier when I found out that my neighbors often got together around 7:30 am on nice sunny mornings and all went walking together; this was far better than the noisy, rude teenagers that often sped down the 25mph road in front of my parents house at 80. I must admit, I was also one those rude teenagers, once.

Before I write about how I feel about the Jones's (names changed) selling their house, I want to draw a quick portrait of my elderly friends. There is lady Evelyn directly across the street (next to the Jones's) who's husband was a preacher. When we moved in, he was already paralyzed from a past stroke and a couple years later he had an even more severe one. Despite his difficulties Lady Evelyn had enough energy and chutzpah for both. She would feed him, clean him, load him and his heavy wheel chair into her special boxy van and take him not only to church and poetry recitals but even HORSEBACK RIDING at a stable where they catered to physically challenged adults and children. She had a big picture window installed in the dining room and created a pond and waterfall for him to look at... something he had always wanted to do. He was equally magnificent. Despite his paralyses, whenever my wife and I walked over, he would take her steady hand into his shaking one and always kiss it as only a true gentleman could. The love and goodwill he couldn't express in speech, one could see plainly in his eyes, his smile and the gently curving lines on his forehead. He died 2 summers ago and all of us on Grace Lane prayed for him and expressed our condolences to Lady Evelyn. At that time I started thinking that I might have to witness many more of these events in the coming years...

Then there is Joe and Judy on the other side of the Jones's. Judy just had brain surgery two years ago to remove a tumor and almost did not make it. Joe was so messed up at the time, not only because of Judy's seemingly ever worsening condition, but because one could see the fear in his eyes of being alone whether she lived or died; Judy was beginning to lose her memories. Thank God for Joe that she pulled through with flying colors. She just brought me over a delicious pepper stuffed with lamb and wild rice last week. She and my wife often trade tomatoes and peppers from each others gardens.

Then there are the Browns and the Widow from further up my side of the street. I do not know them as well as my neighbors across the street but I know that they have all shared so many great years together on Grace Lane. Even when the whole group of them was not walking together, I often saw Mr. Brown and the Widow (no, never Mrs. Brown) go out for an afternoon stroll. Whenever, my five year old son sees any of them, the Widow, the Browns, Joe & Judy, Lady Evelyn, and especially the Jones's, through the bay window in the living room, he calls out to them, then runs out the door without asking and says hello. They all stop to say high and wonder at how fast he is growing. He then invites them over to come see his fish or play video games with him in the house. They all share a laugh and each moves on to the activities of their particular generation.

So the Jones's are selling their house. These are the same Jones's that have lived there since the house was built in the early '60s. Having raised their own kids; I know they have seen so many others' bicycle by, and then drive by. I feel sad that they will not be here to see my son do the same. God willing, they will still be living in the over 55 community where they purchased a property to retire to and he will be able to drive his set of wheels over to see them in 11 more years.

Last year the Jones' went to Italy. The year before that, a cruise down the Rhine River, and even before that to Alaska. I imagine they held hands and reminisced about their happy life just as the old couple walking hand in hand in a pouring rain down a glistening Philadelphia street that I saw with a past girlfriend when we were just friends. Not knowing, but maybe hoping that we would soon fall in love, she and I wondered how happy that old couple looked and whether we would enjoy the same fate.

Recently, Mrs. Jones has been sick a lot and Mr. Jones' cancer is back. He is undergoing chemotherapy again and she fainted a couple of weeks ago and fell. He now has a stent in a place other than an artery and can not walk much. A week ago I moved a few bags of mulch up a hill so he could sit near them and mulch his plants. Mrs. Jones was grateful but she need not have been. This was the least I could do for a man who, even at his late age, would come over with a snow-blower and clean my driveway if I got home late from work after a snowfall.

Now, a young man from a few houses away cuts their lawn. Mr. Jones tells my wife that he can not bear the sight of watching someone else tend the yard that he has nurtured for almost fifty years. When he sees my son from across the street, Mr. Jones shouts out a loud greeting and the little one runs across the street without looking both ways and starts spewing his whole life story, all five years of it without stopping for a breath; Mr. Jones listens to the whole tale.

My son is a lucky boy. He sees his Grandparents everyday and has seen all his Grand Uncles and Grand Aunts. They have visited him here in this land and he has been fortunate enough to have visited his 2 living great grandmothers and 1 great grandfather in another land on 2 separate occasions. I often am a little jealous. He knows not how lucky he is being surrounded by so much adoration and wisdom - more importantly - just the love and affection. Separated by parents who emigrated to this country for a better life, I only caught fleeting glimpses of the elders in my family - through the few and far between visits to the homeland.

Even so, the stories of my grandparents youth, the painful separations from children and grandchildren far away stay with me today. I will wait pensively for the day that the SOLD sign goes up on the hill across from our bay window. This morning I was all worked up because the guy who lives to the left of me never cuts his lawn on time. In fact, Mr. Jones and Joe once joked that I had better watch my son; if he wandered over there, he might not find his way out. When the moving van drives away later this summer, my son will ask me where the Jones's went. I won't know what to say then. Of course, if a family from the younger demographic moves in, and they have rug-rats for him to play with, Mr. and Mrs. Jones may soon become a distant memory to him. But not for me.