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di's Insite
Blue Church Road
At the edge of a large city, sits a neighborhood whose inhabitants have lived there all their lives, growing up just streets away or in the same house.
The small one-story houses sit on chain link fence yards, enclosing concrete statues and ringed flower beds. Wrought iron railings enclose grass green carpeted porches with small outdoor lawn furniture set for a lookout on the road's happenings.
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I pulled up my van to park at a curb, eyeing the dog barking next door. Shadow was interested and wagged expectantly. I slipped his lease onto his seat belt harness and led him to the front gate saying hello to the elderly woman in a T-shirt and shorts, sitting on her porch. Questions flew about the trip, and hugs were presented with ease-- I don't think I could have gotten away with anything less than a bear hug! Shadow was admired, then I let him loose to roam the small yard and try his luck in making friends through the fence with the dog next door.
Offering iced tea and lunch, the elderly woman disappeared for a moment while I surveyed the tidy yard. I knew all the gossip here, all the neighborhood disputes over who and why that bush was planted and who wanted it moved, or why that space by the curb was marked for that house. People here tend to mark out their territory, public or not. Newcomers are warned if they park in the wrong spot, or seem reluctant to go by the unspoken rules. It works for the neighborhood-- most are hard working people who take pride in their homes. It is a little restrictive for me, and perhaps a mite too cluttered with lawn chairs and curb watchers. But it is my old home and the people there are dear to me.
The woman returned with an elderly man who insisted on his hug and I answered the same questions about my trip. Finally, we all sunk down in the vinyl cushions, sipping the tea. No sense not eating the offered sandwich for I knew she would nag me until I did! I ate while they talked, observing Shadow out of the corner of my eye, as he lay close to the fence watching the neighbor's dog run back and forth from porch to fence, not sure if Shadow understood his importance. Shadow knew if he waited long enough, he would have a new friend.
Old stories surfaced about the neighborhood; I let my mind wander until a word spoken landed my writer's mind onto a mental wordpad. She began to explain how she found a bird lying in her flower bed, out in the hot sun. At first she just observed, and when it did not fly away, thought it must be injured. She got a rag and picked it up; it did not struggle but looked at her. Her nurturing instincts flew into action and bread was offered as she put it down in the shade. It ate eagerly, and then she noticed another bird waiting nearby. After eating, the bird hopped over to the other one, and they strolled down the sidewalk like "an old married couple," she said.
I could just picture my Mom, in her housecoat on a hot humid morning, seeing that bird and worrying over it. Her wrinkles crinkle with laughter, her eyes dance with humor. But when she sees a creature or human suffering, there is not a thing she would not do to help.
Yet my step-father seemed surprised to hear about the bird. He worries about her. She looks frail beneath that white cotton fluff of hair and thin tanned skin. She has had some bad falls and though both have had heart surgery, he remains the most concerned with her balance.
It is his turn now, and he tells me one of his wartime stories. This one is new, somehow it escaped the telling in the past. Frostbitten on his face, he went to his ship's infirmary. A medic gave him some blue cream to put on it. He took the jar and smeared it liberally over the frostbitten skin of his face and neck. It had a odd odor but he wanted to heal so bore with it. When he returned to his buddies, they said he stunk! What is that stuff all over your face? they asked. He told them it was called Blue Cream. Laughing, they told him to return to the medic. There had been some mistake. Seems Blue Cream was used for crabs! We all laughed as he told me this story. I love to see them laugh and share such a moment.
On Blue Church Road is many diversities. Laughing makes some more bearable than others. An above ground pool makes noise that another may find irritating when working the night shifts and sleeping days. A stray cat wanders often into the yard and stays as food is left out. Someone is ill, and food is sent. A granddaughter gets married and the whole neighborhood admires the pictures. A family of a new race moves in and kids tell families all the information needed: the jobs held, the furniture used, and they all watch to see if the rules are observed. A sigh of relief breezes down the sidewalk as they see a smile and a wave. Yards are mowed to keep up with the one next door. Long talks on the benefits of one flower over another are given over fences.
Shadow sees the new family's dog emerge first and leads the neighborhood in a welcoming bark. I sigh and wonder how long I can stay.
© 1999 di
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