I live in the neighborhood I grew up in as a child. Many of my neighbors moved here when my parents lived in this house on Homewood Road. The Wards, the Kushners, the Hanlons, and the Kiorpes, knew my parents well. They knew me too. Several of these neighbors have gotten to see my children grow up also. It has been 20 years since we moved into the neighborhood.
Recently on my walks around the block, I caught up with one of those neighbors on his walk. Jack began to share the story when he first moved into the neighborhood; he decided to play tennis. My dad offered to play with him. Sunday mornings, Jack played tennis with my dad. My dad was easily a couple of decades older than Jack, but he had been a varsity athlete at the Naval Academy in squash and badminton. Dad knew how to handle a racquet. Jack fondly recalled what a good sport and teacher my father was with a beginner. Jack enjoyed all the more the conversations about politics and national security issues they had on the court. Jack and Dad were different people. I love the thought of my dad’s desire to be a good neighbor and coach to a new neighbor, as well as the shared conversations about such topics. Topics that seem impossible today to discuss, let alone in a neighborly fashion.
I am so grateful for that chance conversation that happened because of walking around the block. The story could have been missed or never shared. Many years after a death, it is quite a revelation to realize how many stories there are to that life still to discover. When those you love are gone, only the stories of what they gave away can be retrieved.
As my Dad was reaching his nineties, we tried to write down his life stories. However, there are some stories only others can tell about you. We often forget what we give away. It is a special treasure when those who receive it remember. The unexpected stories of another person’s reflection on the small way you made a difference: these seem the best of stories. Those almost missed.
I am so glad the story was found and shared. The impact in the telling is that it moves me to be the kind of neighbor my Dad modeled.
Have you discovered a story almost missed?
Love this! Thanks for sharing. Reminds me of a lot of stories about my own dad, which bring inspiration and a smile.
I was thinking of so many of us with amazing dads and the stories we have not yet heard about them.
Such a gift to hear that story about your Dad! A generous man!
What a lovely story about Dad. He was kind and neighborly. I visualized that same walk around Ferry Farms, particularly in spring when Forsythias and daffodils come first.
That long row of daffodils along Elmwood are about to burst!
This is something I will be pondering today: “… there are some stories only others can tell about you. We often forget what we give away.”
Thanks for sharing:)
Mary, this is a gem– the story and your writing of it to share with us! The fact that there are some stories only others can tell about you (because it is true that “we often forget what we give away”), nudges me to remember to speak up and share those stories of the way others have given to me and blessed me; It’s a lesson I take away from this blog entry of yours. I also see clearly that you, Mary, don’t fall far from the tree. 🙂 Happy Spring, friend!