A Special Kind of Person

Before we moved to our house on Rosewood, I had driven by to take a lookie loo the first day the ad had gone in the paper.  I found the renters still present and slowly moving out.  I asked the guy (obviously the husband) how he liked living in this neighborhood.  He said they really had enjoyed it but that it would be hard leaving as he had grown fond of his next door neighbor, "Harold".    After Greg and I had leased the house, I drove by and happened to see who I thought was Harold up in his tree doing something. 

So I called out and said, "Hi  We're going to be your new neighbors."  He was as friendly and affable as he could be.  I told him that  I was sure that my husband would enjoy meeting him..  We moved into the house and sure enough, Greg and Harold became friends.  It was a ritual for the older guys in our immediate neighborhood to get together at Harold's and have a beer or two and talk about those Mets and whatever else was going on.  All summer long for the past two or three years now ...  the immediate neighborhood guys would be at Harold's till late summer nights, watching a thunderstorm roll through or hearing about Harold and Greg's experiences in Vietnam or Wally's adventures with trimming his tree or Joe's talk on fine wines.  Some times I would be fortunate to sit in on these talks.  But it was a regular event all summer long at least 2-3 times a week.  Harold would get up early with his coffee, cigarettes and newspaper and he'd be sitting out in his garage when I'd roll by to go to morning Math class and we'd both wave. 

Harold was an old-fashioned guy.   He would do anything for you.  He liked to cook out in his side yard.  He'd show you how to do something if you didn't know how.  He was a Will Rogers kind of guy; he never had anything bad to say about anybody.  He never met a stranger.  He had 50s music always playing in his garage office.  He'd offer you a beer or a pop when you came by to say hi.  He really made the immediate neighborhood a community during the summer.  During the winter, he would hang out in his house so we wouldn't see him much until our weather started warming up.  He took care of our dogs when Greg and I would take long weekends off and leave town.  One time I had cleverly locked myself out of the house and went over to Harold's and Harold just limberly climbed over the fence and let me in. He was special like that.  Like everybody's buddy.  I loved to look over and see him sitting in the garage and talking to his friend, Harry Downey.  Harry Downey just left to go to the Lord last fall. 

After he'd gone to Missouri to see his kinfolks, he came back with a backache.  He had driven his cherished 1956 Chevrolet truck to Missouri and back.  And said that the seats were uncomfortable and had caused him a bad backache.  Fall turned into winter and all of our good neighbors stayed inside.  Over Christmas, we saw that his wife, Janet had not gone to her mother's.  I went by to drop off a Christmas card and candy.  That concerned me.  She told me that he was feeling bad.  Later came the word that he had been diagnosed
with cancer.  Tonight we hear that he died.  Sad for Janet's loss and their children's loss and our loss as friends to Harold.  He will be sorely missed.