I barely know him. I
know people who know him well. I know that he is 101 years old!
He has lived across the
street from us for the past 11 years. He was here before we came. Sometimes we
have seen him and his wife sitting on the porch in the evening or early
morning. It's a raised veranda on the back of their house which is right across
the street from us. We’ve waved, shouted a cordial greeting or reply, and
conversed about how to get the city to do something about blocking our street
when it gets slick. We weren’t ever successful on that one. We've helped rescue many a car from the drop-off
going down toward his yard during icy or snowy weather.
He and his wife have had
their share of health problems, as you can imagine. My neighbor who is a
retired nurse, has regularly visited them, taking them meals, and looking in on
him while she was in the hospital and looking in on her when he was failing. I believe she’s known them much longer than she has been the awesome lady who lives next
door. I also have a student who has
visited with them periodically as they have been part of the shut-in ministry
of her church.
This past fall Mr.
Rogers wife died. My neighbor has gone to see about him and helped him out as
much as possible. But he needed a better overall solution. They hired a guy to
stay with him, trying to allow him to live out his last days in the home he was
accustomed to. But finally the decision was made to move him to live with his
son in California
And so I have watched with
a bit of sadness as the moving van in his back yard has filled up over the past
few days. I've watched and considered. It's a small van for such a large house.
Scenes from Fiddler on the Roof play through my mind depicting the belongings
of the people piled in wagons and carts after they had sold or discarded all
but essentials. Some knew where they were heading, but none really understood.
Anatevka was all they had known. One man said he was going to Chicago , America New York , America
From the stories I've
heard, they moved into the house right after it was built and raised a family
there. Children moved into new lives, took those lives elsewhere, came back for
awhile and then eventually became too embroiled in their own worlds to get
away. The days grew longer and more
difficult and one by one activities were surrendered to the disability of age.
I wondered how he will
accept his new life in someone else’s world, comfortable or not. I wonder if he will even remember the quirky
neighbor who waved and yelled a quick “Good morning,” or when the trashcan was
blown over and became lodged in his back yard, or when the Mercedes almost fell
beside his deck. Will he be honored as a
blessing or treated as a burden? Will
they take time to listen? Will they find
ways to get him out to see the best part of his new world? I’m sure the
benefits outweigh the displacement, but still, it makes you think.
And then there is the
question about the house itself. It’s
always been tidy and in fairly good repair.
When it was flooded last spring, they replaced all the carpet
throughout. The lovely, huge old dogwood
succumbed a few years ago to unthinkable heat after a late freeze, but the
other trees are trimmed and well maintained.
No doubt it has outdated décor, but that’s not hard to fix. Who will there be to fix it and prune and
maintain it? Will the new neighbors be
friendly and clean? Will they speak my
language? Will I make a friend?
The house to the south of us
was sold when the man died and the woman went to live with relatives. How we prayed for a neighbor to bless and be
blessed. That prayer was answered
amazingly which brings a bit of hope into our uncertainty.
Mostly, I hope Mr Rogers
finds some happiness to live out the remainder of his days, however many there
might be. God bless you and keep you and
make his face to shine on you and grant you peace.
