Lost Heart Lost Soul

My next door neighbor passed away on Sunday. He had been sick for a couple of years but we thought he had the cancer beat. Then he got sick again and one thing led to another and it ended on last Sunday morning with an ambulance removing his lifeless body from his home that he inhabited for 28 years.

When we decided to relocate in this side of the Ohio River, a stones throw from Louisville and Kentucky where all my family and my husbands family lives. We had been living in upstate Indiana, in snow country, and though it easier to stay here due to taxes and other thinfs that don't matter much now.

What does matter is how lucky we were in choosing this house and this neighborhood and our neighbors who came along with it. Not only Joe next door, who is the best neighbor anyone could ask for, but Ed across the street also falls into that category.

Ed passed away in December after a short illness. A shock to everyone. Ed was 55.

What made Ed and Joe so irreplaceable is that we have never had such fun neighbors ever! Except maybe when we were kids in our Baby Boomer subdivision, but certainly not before. The highlight of the early spring Tuesday night until the first frost and inclement weather took hold was a shindig, much like Hank Hill Gang sipping beers in the back alley. Only they did it in Eds open garage that was also his office and his position to spy on the neighborhood.

Now spying on the neighborhood is a good thing. Thought Ed was facing the computer screen while he conducted business and watched TV in between transactions with a beer in his hand (his Internet handle No Worries Bring Beer). It was rumored that Ed had eyes in the back of his head. With his superhuman powers Ed kept track of the coming and going of the entire block. Runing the stop sign was a pet peeve of his and he was able to persuade the police in the town to take a better interest in the crimes.

But Hank Hill night was the  best. The men and at times some of the woman, would congregate at the always open garage door (unless it was after midnight and before 7am) and hash out the worlds problems, politics, sports, and of course the "old stories" of bravery, never seen before feats of strength, and the winning touchdown, home run or desperation shot that won the game! 

Joe was the soul who helped keep an eye on our house when we were gone. He helped trim the side walk when I did not even know what a hedger was (still don't) and was a comfort always with a smile a wave and a kind word.

We would bring him cigars from the Ybor City area of Tampa when the displaced Cubans still hand rolled tobacco into delectable and desirable smokes for the willing. He offered to pay. We would never hear of such a thing. He was our guardian angel.

Now he is gone, Ed is gone and the neighborhood is not ever going to be the same. The heart and soul is gone.