“The impersonal hand of government can never replace the helping hand of a neighbor.”
Herbert Humphreys
The year was 1993. My folks were drilling an artisan well on their property where our new house was to be built. It was about 1,200 feet deep. It tapped into the Dakota flow aquifer, which made for an endless supply of water. Our neighbor came and asked my dad if he could fill his pond up with our well water? My dad wasn’t sure at first so he called an old cowboy friend to ask his thoughts on the matter. Mr. Garland Webb had a lot of wisdom under his hat. His advice was always trustworthy. When my dad finished explaining the situation, Mr. Garland answered immediately with, “Jim, that is your neighbor.”
The value of good neighbors has long been forgotten – or so I thought. Living in a bigger city brought a way of life that I was unaccustomed to. I would watch people drive into their garages and lower the door before ever getting out. They would keep their blinds closed tightly sending a clear message that isolation was the preferred method of living. This was a foreign concept to me; one that I never did quite master.
I longed for a place where people preferred carports rather than garages; a place where back doors were still left open and a spare key was rarely needed.
The country has always suited me. Even with the few things that I enjoy about the city, I quickly find myself itching for a back road and the smell of livestock on the breeze. There is just something about country folk that slows the pace of life down to a crawl. It’s as if they know a secret they are not willing to share. Country folks don’t have to tell you they are country; it leaks out. They talk slow, make casseroles, recognize the number of workable hours within a day, keep homemade canned jelly in the fridge, and always have time for a visit.
I have always been blessed to have had wonderful neighbors, even when I was a kid. I remember one hot summer day, everyone in our family was outside push mowing our yard; which consisted of about two acres of grass. Dad had the weed eater and all of us girls had the push mowers; swapping out turns. We were all sunburned and sweaty; covered in grass clippings and dirt. We watched as our neighbor who lived down the road came riding on his tractor mower. He relieved us in minutes from a long day of mowing.
Another time, we were away from home and a bad storm came up before we could get back. Dad was concerned about the barn doors being left open and the horses out in the corrals. As we rounded the bend we could see our place out ahead of us, our neighbor and his sons were already putting the horses in the barn and closing the doors. Dad said, “You know you just can’t put a price on good neighbors like that.”
Earlier this spring, my husband and one of his buddies were cutting down an old dead tree that was a threat to our play and our garden spot. Our neighbor saw them working and came over with his tractor and joined right in. I couldn’t help but smile to myself because I had seen this kind of neighborly intervention somewhere before. A thought crossed my mind, “You just can’t put a price on good neighbors like that.”
I have been asked on multiple occasions as to why I don’t park in our garage? We have plenty of space and it is nicely organized (I love that). I do park in there when it’s raining or extremely cold outside, but for the most part, I park outside on the driveway. It gives all the bikes, wagons, scooters and other toys room to move in and out when the need arises plus, the dogs find their rest during the day at the door step; waiting for us to exit. But none of those reasons are why I don’t park in our garage. Mainly it is because I want my garage door up and my cars visible so that my neighbors know I am home; I want them to know we are busy living here, developing the day inside and out. I want them to know we don’t just sleep here; we play here, we work here; our lives are here. I want my neighbors to know they are welcome at our home, and by all means, come through the garage entrance because, well, we’re neighbors.
Welcome Home
“…Better is a neighbor close by than a brother far off.” Proverbs 27:10
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