Neighborly

Random story from the pre-blogging days....

Years and years ago, when I first moved in here, I had a neighbor (and I'll rename her just for kicks and giggles) - Mrs. Daniels. She was a widow, appeared to be just shy of 140 years old, and was not your average old lady. She weighed PERHAPS 80 pounds (soaking wet), drank a Miller Light straight from the can every single day, spent most of each day carefully perched on the corner of her couch, watching soaps and game shows (taking the occasional day off to head to the river boat for some gambling) and y'all, she could cuss a sailor right out of a conversation. Her regular outings were to get her hair done, to play Bingo, and to go to the store (for more beer).

I learned early on that she also had a very tight relationship with both the police and fire departments, and I'd do well to stay as far over on her good side as I could.

So I did. I'd take her food every now and then, I shoveled her walk every winter, and I dutifully waved every time I walked or drove past her house. (Because she was better than ANY security system you could possibly buy. She was AT the curtain ALL the time, and you could get nothing past that woman.)

She'd talk my ear off every chance she got - telling me what she won at the river boat, the latest on her "bad ticker" or her current opinion on the (insert choice words here) neighbors on the OTHER side of her. And by the way, the current opinion never changed.

And yet I loved that lady. She really was sweet, despite her somewhat (okay very) rough edges. And when summer rolled around, I always found a little brown bag of produce on my porch every time her kids visited. They always brought her too much and she wanted to share. Sweet lady.

So. One year, after Christmas, I was taking down my Christmas tree (well, one of the seven) and a car pulled up in front of my house. The block was eerily quiet because everyone was gone for the holidays. In fact, I hadn't even seen Mrs. Daniels for a few days. A man I didn't know got out of the car and came up on my porch. I stuck my head outside (careful to not invite him in) and asked if I could help him. He asked if I was Rebekah and I said yes. Turns out he was some random pastor from out of state and he'd read some of my writing and wanted to meet me.

(I'm not making this up.)

I went out on the porch and we talked for a while, and the whole time, I edged as close to Mrs. Daniels' side of things as I possibly could. I willed her to look OUT the window and call the cops before I turned into a Lifetime movie.

No cops came and the guy finally left.

A couple of days later, I saw her kids pull up in front of her house. I scrambled into my shoes and scurried out onto the porch. "HEY!" I called over. "Is she okay? I'm worried about her!"

Her daughter yelled back "Oh honey, I'm sorry - you didn't know! She died a week ago." WHAT!?

She hadn't even been there when the guy was on my porch. That ticker had finally given out and I didn't even know she was (that) sick.

And wouldn't you know (this was the part Mom and I were talking about Sunday) it was just a couple of days later that the blasted street light went out. It was right in front of her house.

I mumbled under my breath. "I don't even know how you get a street light fixed. Mrs. Daniels would have known. She would have had them on speed dial and had the whole thing fixed in 20 minutes flat." So I dug out the phone book (yes, it was in THAT era) and started calling around to various city departments until I found the right one. When I landed at the right department, they said there was a number on the light pole they'd need to have. Ten bucks says Mrs. Daniels had THAT written down somewhere too. Not me, though. I had to traipse out there and write it down and call them back.

Not gonna lie...I still miss her. People my age live over there now and they've done some really wonderful things to that house - lots of updating. I don't have to shovel any more than my own walk now. But I miss her waving out the front window...and hearing stories about her ticker. :)