Chapter 13 Our Neighborhood

Sometimes a person gets lucky and ends up living in a neighborhood where everyone is more like "family" than neighbors. That was the case with Mark, our children, and me. We feel so wanted here, so loved.

Most of our neighbors are older than us. Sometimes those older ones can become your most valued friends. You have heard that saying "experience is the best teacher." They all faced life "head on" so they were wise and kind teachers to both Mark and myself. Our children have many "Grandpas, Grandmas, aunts and uncles.

On nice warm days, Bret, Kate and I would walk down the road and across a little stone bridge, and up a lane to a cute little one story farmhouse. This is where "grandpa" Amos and "grandma" Ruth live. An old red chicken coop sits to the west of the lane. As we walk, hand in hand, we see chickens scratching in the ground. Their little heads are busy, going up and down as they move along slowly, picking up grains of wheat. Mr rooster stands straight and proud, cocks his old head and lets out a load cock-a-doodle-doo, flaps his wings a bit and settles down once again to scratching among the weeds. Amos' old John Deere narrow front end tractor sits off in the trees, hooked to the old pull plow.

Bret raises his hand to knock, but before he can, Ruth swings it wide and we make our way through the old green screen door into her neat, clean little kitchen. They are Swedish so her kitchen always smells of fancy little treats.

"Come on in," she said.  "Amos and I are just ready to have tea." Sitting on their little table, there in the middle of the kitchen, were little tea cups, saucers and in the middle, a glass platter of dainty little cakes or cookies. Ruth always had a pretty table cloth covering the table. There weren't toys for Bret and Kate to play with, but sometimes children need something more than toys. They need love and they got plenty of that from "grandpa" Amos and "grandma" Ruth.

"Oh Amos. Would you please go to the cellar for a jar of jam?" Ruth asks. "I'll bet the children would like some on their crackers."

"Oh Amos.  Could I please go with you?" I ask.  I love the smell of the cellar.

So out the back door we go, Amos, Kate and I. He bends over and takes hold of the rusty handle and lifts the door up in the air, and over onto the ground. We go down the old wooden steps into the dark musty smell. There is a light at the bottom of the steps hanging by a cord. Amos reaches up and pulls it on, and soft light floods out over shelves filled with quart jars full of peaches, pears, tomatoes, apples, and all sorts of different things. Amos finds a jar of jelly, picks it up and we mount the wooden stairs once again. Amos reaches for the light, pulls the chain and all goes dark. We walk back up into the sunlight and into Ruth's kitchen.

Down the road to the west live Ray and Shirley. Their little one story house is very homie and simple. Ray works in town and Shirley stays home. Ray loves to talk and he has a laugh that shakes his whole body. Shirley is a quiet, proper lady. So often we see their car go slowly by and turn in at Amos and Ruth's. In the winter they all four play cards, and in the summer and spring it isn't unusual to see all four pile into Amos' pickup and head to the pasture pond to do a little fishing. Some days when I'm out in the 80 plowing or discing, I can see across the pasture and I'm not as lonesome when I see that old pickup sitting over there near the pond.

We have two dairy farmers living on our road. We owe them both a huge thank you. Since we are just young and starting out here, we have borrowed lots of things from these two men. We have used their silage wagons, blower pipe, distributor pipe, and even a tractor once in awhile. They both are so thoughtful and tell Mark, "We've been in your shoes too, you know."

Gary and family live down the road to the west and Roy and family up the road to the east. Bret, Kate and I love to visit Roy's milking barn. It has a smell all of its own. A combination of milk, disinfectant, and cow. We stand in the doorway and watch as Roy opens the big door on the east and in come the black and white cows and find their places in the stanchions. They put their heads down and start eating grain as Roy clicks the stanchions shut and starts hooking little section cups up to their teats. You can hear the swish...swish of the machine as it milks the cows and sends the milk up through a long pipe and into a stainless steel tank in the front room. After each cow is milked, Roy unlocks the stanchion and out she walks into the sunlight.

There is a front room they call the milk parlor. This is where the stainless steel tank sits. There is usually a deep sink along another wall where you wash up the equipment. This room is real clean and has a special smell to it.

Quite a few times little Bret has packed a few special toys in a bag, and I have put a juice bottle, and some diapers in the diaper bag and we have driven up the road southeast to an old mailbox sitting at the end of a long two track lane, with grass growing down the middle. We would turn in and follow that lane through the pasture grass to a beautiful little homestead among the tall cottonwoods. This is the home of our friends Bob and Von. Von loves the outdoors just like I do and you can sure tell it the minute you get out of the car and look around. There are beautiful beds of all different colors of iris. Lilac bushes, the dark purple, light purple, and white, are everywhere. Pansies grow in an old tire and petunias hang out of an old barrel. All of this is among tall cottonwoods and well kept lawns. I love this place. Von is just like my sister. The kids have spent a lot of time here with Von and Bob.

Then there is my aunt and uncle, and their two little boys, who are Bret and Kate's best friends. There is old Bud up on the corner, and George across the section north. There is Bob's dad, mom and sister Hariett across the section north of Grandpa's. And of course my dear Grandpa and Grandma. We loved them all.

So you see...it takes more than a home, an old tractor and some equipment to feel at home. The main thing is neighbors. It is because of these dear people that one cold day Mark and I made our way into town and visited a bank and took out our largest loan ever. It is because of these people that we put down roots along the little creek among the cottonwoods.