For parents of a certain age, whose children are a little older than is comfortable admitting to, that is a familiar song from the childrens' television show Sesame Street. That was when, next to Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, Sesame Street was the show that kids grew up on. It was familiar, part of our daily routine..kind of like our neighbours.
We have lived in this neighborhood long enough to pay off a full term mortgage, see our children mature, marry and provide us with grandchildren. When we moved here we were the new kids on the block; a harried, working, broke young couple raising young boys. We are now among the few 'mature' couples on the street. We have lost many of our older friends, and those remaining are eyeing accommodation that does not require mowing or shoveling or chimney repairs.
In this weirdest of times, while we 'stay at home', my view of our neighborhood is narrow, limited to my window primarily, as we are not outside interacting in normal ways.
Lest you think that I only think about birds and squirrels, although, 'slightly reclusive' may apply to my personality, I do see and am interested in my neighbours. You will have to settle primarily for pretty winter photos as I cannot stand at my window taking unauthorized pictures of them. My next door neighbor is from Europe originally. Her husband did his army time as legislated there, and then they moved to Canada. You can still hear the sounds of that land in her voice. Her husband, a sweet and gentle man, never learned much English, but he had the biggest, warmest smile, and would always wave and say, 'hello, missus'. He is gone now and at 93 she remains, keeping her home and property so tidy, and almost every day I see her drive past my window to visit the cemetery.
The neighbor on our other side has only been here a couple of years. When she came to view the house before she purchased, she was accompanied by many of her 7 children, and their children. Someone called across to us, 'don't worry, we are not all moving in.' (Perhaps, I was looking pale, or slightly hyperventilating, at that moment rather than welcoming) She is a wonderful friend now, and perfect neighbour. She lives alone, independent and active, with only 5% vision. She wanders all over town, crossing main intersections without a cane to indicate her vulnerability, the thought of which gives me nightmares! Every few days I see her walk past my window, head down so she can see the shadows which delineate the edge of the road.
A small figure with white hair now, walks her a small black dog. She is the widow of the man we used to call the 'Mayor'. Their house was built slightly before ours, when this was the edge of town, and what is now a park across the road, was farmland. The Mayor seemed sometimes larger than life, big voice, loud laugh, and huge sense of fun. His hands were big, fingers thickened and gnarled from a lifetime of working in a foundry. He had a large presence and left a equally large hole when he left us. His widow lives there still, with his daughter there to provide company and help. Every few days she walks past my window, pauses to wave; a long-established habit we have, and then continues home with the small dog, who, like the widow, moves a little slower.
Someone that I see without fail, each day, is not my neighbour. I don't know where she lives, but our street is part of a well-established route that she walks each day with her grandson. She is tiny, this grandma; her face is weathered, and I know she does not speak English. Over the past year I have watched the grandson grow. I think he must be about the age of our youngest grandson. I have watched the age-old parent-child dance begin; the tension between the encouragement of independent thought and behaviour, and the compliance often required for safety and/or the acceptance of authority. I think it is called 3. I don't think she understands what I say, but she does understand the 'Hello' and wave, and she waves back and stops her grandson from his exploring long enough to wave too. I enjoy their passage past our window.
During this time, we are isolated but not necessarily alone. We are privileged to have so many ways to be in contact with those that matter to us. I am reminded though that with a smile and a wave, we can offer, and receive some cheer, through the window. It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood...Thank you Mr. Rogers
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