Strange Days
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Today, my neighbor, Brad, stopped by while I was working on the Cross House. I was on the porch roof. He explained that he was an extrovert and was losing his mind staying at home, alone. He has not been able to see his girlfriend, Amy, for three weeks now. He figured that he could talk with me as I was not only far enough away, but far UP.
We talked for an hour. After his battery was recharged, he thanked me and went home. I resumed painting.
We are living in strange times.
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My adult son, an introvert even, was having a hard time today. So he came over to my house, and burned my brush pile while I added to it. He would step far back every time I brought more fuel. Then when my joints couldn’t take anymore, and his feet couldn’t either (he was born with severely clubbed feet that still hurt all the time), we sat and talked with our chairs about 8 feet apart in the yard. Strange times indeed.
You are a fabulous neighbor, Ross. Blessings to you.
I hope we will be able to look back on this time and say, yup, it was difficult but we survived.
Alas, I was SO looking forward to showing off the latest house I’ve restored to friends, family, kids of the former longtime tenant who passed on. A barbecue and some champagne were in order after transforming this tumbledown shack to the little jewel box it is now! I’ll have to settle for posting the video tour on my Facebook and opening the shades for the neighbors to come have a look at the work I’ve done, and with a tenant set to move in, I won’t get a chance to show it off once this is all over. Torture, for an extrovert like me!
Send me pictures, Jakob!
I shall do my best! It’s a tiny little 430sf box, built 1900 for shipyard workers in Bremerton, WA, walking distance to the Seattle ferry. I must confess I had to take the route of renovation rather than restoration in many areas, as it’s to be a rental and many things were in so bad of shape I couldn’t save them. The original fir floors were too thin to refinish, and directly on the joists, no less. The silly plastic gutters are still on, waiting for the refi for metal half-round. The awful 1980s front door I yearn to replace with something era- appropriate. But I proudly rebuilt the porches, restored the original windows, and spent many an hour fixing ought people’s screw-ups.
my friend was in need of hay so I called my supplier. We took two trucks, her in hers and I in mine. Never got out of the trucks and the farmer filled the truck beds. Got back and I kept 6 feet away and shoved the hay bales toward her so we could unload. Then we sat in our truck beds and chatted for an hour.
I on my front porch as I am mostly in a wheelchair and watch everyone pass. Many stop standing at the public sidewalk next to the walk to my 1926 craftsman bungalow to talk. I learn their names, kids names, and dogs names. So many more are out these days taking the breeze and the nice weather. They all want to know if I need anything. Do I need them to go to the store for me, do tell if I need something soon. I am in great appreciation of this kindness given to me by so many different people. Really I am amazed by all this and never expect anything like this to happen to me.. I do believe there are around 250 passing by my house each day. it is a regular thing who I see at each time every day. I count 50 and return to my small world inside the house to do whatever, then return to count and talk, enjoying the show. Folks go by on foot, bikes, three wheel bikes, scooters, skate boards, pushing single and double strollers, roller skates, and one golf cart. Many have a dog, some two, three, four, and two people with five dogs. I love the family of three each walking their own dog. The little girl has the biggest dog….both pull each end of the lease. A few wear mask, most do not. All groups do stay far apart. It is like each day I have my own personal parade. Of course, I give the Queen Elizabeth wave to all. Yea!
Tura, That actually sounds like a lovely day, aside from the wheelchair. Stay well, safe and maybe keep track of your conversations; perhaps a memoir could be written.
Dan,
Thank you helping me think to write a memoir. I will do just that! My two grandsons spent the last several days with me as they do each week. Older one will soon be nine with his brother becoming six. Both born in October. The three of us put on a launching the rocket show for each of our folks passing by. This Christmas gift has a launch shaft, three different colored rockets, and hose leading to shaft with a stomp cushion for boys to run to, jump on and come down hard as they can. Boys ran around sending rockets flying house high in all directions. I announced rocket color and name of launcher. Event was a great success. Everyone stood still watching, clapping, smiling, and some wanted a second round of rocket launches. Also, MY grands covered the whole front sidewalk in chalk drawings. The art reviews were brilliant.
This morning as boys waited for their Mom to arrive with all their stuff all packed up out on grass by drive way , here came a Dad strolling his fifteen month son ( a beautiful blonde boy) saying”What no rocket launch today?”. My guys were so thrilled with themselves. I loved it.
Really, really, thanks, Dan writing all this down will be a keepsake for my guys one day. Thanks!
You are so welcome. Sounds like you guys are doing a great job in keeping life fun.
Ross! Shouldn’t you lace your shoes up properly? What if you should trip or fall, god forbid!
Looking at the photo I thought this post was going to be about a guy passing by and yelling, “Hey! Your shoe is untied!”
Silly me.