I love the street I live on in Fort Worth, Texas. It's only a block long, so cars aren't zooming by unless they actually live there (or are lost). The houses were all built in the early 60's, and according to my 91 year old neighbor, this area used to be a squirrel hunting patch of country. The squirrels are still here in abundance - I guess once people stopped shooting at them they multiplied freely!
In preparation for my kitchen remodel, I parked my car on the street today so the workmen would have clear access through the garage to the garbage trailer. In order to use my car, I need to actually set foot outside and walk down my sloping front yard to get in. It's a beautiful day - 80 degrees and sunny. The leaves are falling, so there's a crunch underfoot. And the air has that clarity you only see in the Fall - like God has just finished cleaning the windows on the world.
The first time I had to go out to the car today I ran into Cliff, my 80-something next door neighbor doing his regular walk around the neighborhood. Cliff uses a cane, and is so hunched over I bet he knows every crack in the asphalt for blocks around. He fell a few days ago in his house, and the fire department and ambulance came to help him. Normally when we see an ambulance on our street it's for Joe across the street. Joe is a retired train engineer, and gets his oxygen tanks delivered weekly. He likes to get around outside on one of those motorized scooter chairs, and is often seen chasing his black and white dog down the street.
My second time out to the car I ran into another elderly neighbor out for his walk. I'm ashamed to admit I don't know his name, although I've seen him around since I moved here in 1996. We had a nice long chat. The neighbors all wonder where I am all the time - they know I travel a lot, and sometimes all they see of me is when I'm zooming into my garage. My neighbor was proud of the fact that most of the streets around here are named after the first homeowners, including his family. And he talked about the cemetery just down the street, which wasn't built until 1935 or so.
Speaking of the cemetery, it has an infamous resident. Lee Harvey Oswald is buried there. When I brought it up, my neighbor seemed uncomfortable talking about such a shameful memory, but he told me how to find the grave if I was interested. Not that I'm interested.
The house across the street is up for sale again. It's a real steal at $66,000. I wonder what's wrong with it? Then there's Fannie Mae (that's the owner's name, not a housing loan) next to that house. She's out most days raking her driveway. Raking driveways seems to be a favorite pastime for the elderly homeowners here. The sound of home is the sound of a metal rake on concrete. My 91 year old neighbor told me he still takes care of his own yard, and goes bowling on Wednesdays. Actually he said it's not really bowling anymore - he just drops the ball and hopes it makes it to the end. In response I told him that I was in assisted living. Someone assists me with the yard work, someone assists me with the house cleaning...
Next to Fannie Mae used to live Cecil. His wife died earlier this year, and now he's been moved into a home. I thought he was getting around just fine, but my neighbor friend said that he was moved there for "mental" reasons, whatever that means.
See what I've gained by going outside today? I've also gained a mosquito bite and two house flys, but who's counting?
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