Remembering our neighbors

By Howard E Cummins

columnist

I was privileged to have grown up in the country in a traditional Southern home. It was an early life that molded me into the adult I would become and has grounded me throughout my life. In retirement I was lucky to live with my sister Blanch for over thirty years in a house with both a front porch and back porch, each set up to allow sitting and reflecting and communing with the neighborhood. And for most of those years we were blessed to have one of the best neighbors anyone could ask for, Mrs. Kathleen Ringley.

Her property adjoined ours, so our view of her yard was a daily pleasure. Her front porch banisters came alive every spring and summer, especially when her potted miniature pink lilies were in bloom, along with the window boxes that overflowed with pink and white petunias. I was always jealous of her watering system that had been engineered by her son to ingeniously use plastic tubing that ran along the edges of the porch banisters. The device was then connected to a water pipe located in the basement, making the task of watering the flowers each day nothing more than simply turning on the tiny facets hooked to the tubing.

Her pink roses grew prolifically along her fence line, as well as the shorter ones that flowed along the edge of the sidewalk. The two exceptions to her favorite color were a massive bush of pale red-pinkish roses near her back yard gate, and her late husband’s favorite red rose that grew against a rock wall. Roses seemed to bloom in her yard from early spring until the first killing frost, and when walking in the vicinity of her yard, the exquisite floral smells drenched the senses and shrouded the area with their different fragrances. I became acquainted with her roses when I volunteered to watch over them, to water them, and care for them when she was away, visiting her children and grandchildren.

The home that Mrs. Ringley maintained reflected her character and her creative talents. One foot beyond the threshold of her door, the pale pinks and soft rose colors she loved met the eye in her décor. Her needlepoint, knitting, crochet, and other areas of the art of sewing were visible. Everything was subtly matched in her pastel color scheme, and everything throughout her house exuded warmth and comfort. We knew that it was baking day when the soft wind moved the aroma of baking bread across her yard and into our open kitchen door and windows. And we also knew that we would certainly be offered a product of her efforts.

Our homes are our castles. They offer us shelter, comfort and an endearing happiness that never vanishes in our memories. And, equally important to our memories are those neighborhood houses where we were welcomed guests and treated as though we were members of their own families.

My sister and Mrs. Ringley have now passed into another life, but I cherish those wonderful memories of a neighbor who gave us so much pleasure. And I know in my heart that we were equally welcoming, with an equally inviting home. I know this because being a good neighbor requires a lot of work, and we worked hard to meet that description. And we also worked hard at defining “neighbors” as including more folks than those who lived next door.

Being a good neighbor is more than just keeping the lawn mowed or having beautiful flowers. It is looking out for them and being aware when they may need assistance. This is especially important during our current pandemic that has isolated so many people, especially senior citizens.

I hope this topic is challenging you to consider your neighborhood and how neighborly you consider yourself. If you are fit and able have you considered cleaning the snow from your elderly or ill neighbor’s driveway or walk? When was the last time you offered to pick something up for a neighbor when going shopping? And conversely, if you are among those confined to your home then when was the last time you called and talked with a neighbor or acquaintance? Not just to check on them but to let others know how you are doing.

We must cherish our memories of our fellow neighbors and friends as I have done in remembering and sharing this story. Of remembering the homes in which we have lived, and the neighbors who are such an important part of giving quality and purpose to our lives.