By Jeffrey Lewis
Northside Resident
“Never underestimate the value of a good neighbor.”
That’s what Rita said as we signed the papers and took the keys to the house that would become our home. Her words sounded kind but ordinary and would take years to understand.
When we moved in, I felt cautious and distant. Many of our neighbors flew American flags, and I carried apprehensions formed by experience. I worried we might not be welcomed or belong.
Learning came quietly. In December of our first winter, snow fell every few days until 40 inches had fallen. One day, I was shoveling with futility when Orville came up behind me, his snowblower sending the snow over the banks framing the driveway. “Nowhere to throw it,” he said with his now familiar twinkle and restrained grin. When he finished, he hinted that sometimes a person might agree to share space and labor. The agreement has lasted 25 years.
There were other lessons. One summer, as I carefully tended the only green in our lawn, Orville studied it and said with a grin, “Nice patch of crabgrass you got there.” Humor made room for learning.
When his wife Darlene was dying, Orville invited me to come in. She lay beneath fluorescent lights, the rest of the room in shadow. “I guess she’ll soon be in a better place,” he said through tears. We stood together silently sharing grief.
Over time, his flag changed meaning for me. Seen through our kitchen window, it shows the direction and strength of the wind and helps me plan my bike rides.
This past Christmas he told me he loved me. We help make each other whole.
The value of a good neighbor reveals itself slowly — through kindness, forbearance and the quiet grace of knowing one another over time.
