My neighbor hung banana leaf wallpaper in his kitchen because he thinks it's "sharp as hell." He has a huge garage called "Big Blue" where he plans to install crown molding. He's a gourmet chef, volunteer firefighter, wallpaper hanger, and one heck of a generous, creative and humorous man.
It was two nights before I moved from my apartment and I'd still not fulfilled his open ended dinner invitation from when I first moved in. So I called out to him as he drove his white contractor van into his unfinished driveway which he ripped up conveniently around Christmas.
"When can I come for dinner?"
"How about tonight?"
I'm busy tonight."
"Tomorrow. Our door's always open, babe."
So I went the next night at 5 p.m. and rang the bell. No one was home. I went for a bike ride and tried again at 7. Still no answer.
At 7:15 I ate a snack on my back porch and heard Frank Sinatra blasted from Big Blue. My neighbor was home. I called over the fence to see if we could do dessert instead.
"Come over right now!"
He poured wine and made leftovers from a gourmet feast he and his wife had for their children the weekend prior. He rinsed our dishes with the industrial sprayer above his sink after dinner. Then, he gave me a tour of his tree fort-like house.
His wife doesn't have a preference for the decor so he followed the inspiration of a client's house and chose banana leaf wallpaper for the kitchen. He added the MF (Monday Night Football) room with a step down to the left of the kitchen. The room includes a cardboard cutout of his daughter and her husband propped near the fireplace, a wall covered with other large and small family pictures, and a restaurant booth for intimate meals.
The kids took over the MF room as they grew, so he made the "Crystal Room" upstairs for him and his wife. The personal cocktail lounge makes the fourth bar in the house (including the one in Big Blue). There's also a cat door from that room to the roof where my neighbor created a ramp for the cat to run down. And there's a balcony off the second floor outfitted with a hot plate and coffee pot, and exercise bike discretely privatized with a window blind from the ceiling.
Outside was the masterpiece. "Little Blue" was pulled by a friend with a rope and construction machine farther back in the yard --past the waterfall and lighted pine trees-- to make room for Big Blue.
My neighbor turned on some Springsteen to its normal volume and asked if I could usually hear that over the fence. I admitted I could.
He cranked Margaritaville to the volume he'd like to play it and said he hoped to insulate the garage soon--right after the crown molding.
Once he papered a house with his music blasted too loud. A neighbor knocked at the door. "Mother of God," she said. "Yea I know who that is. Mary," he replied. The expression on her face made him quickly realize what she meant and he turned down the music. "Sorry about that, babe."
For another job, he recently contracted Mexican men who stood outside Home Depot as day laborers. He doesn't know any Spanish.
Fortunately, his wife Googled simple Spanish words and wrote them phonetically for him on a paper --which he left at home. So he made do with sick figures which he drew with marker on the dry wall where they worked.
He included shorts on himself and speech bubbles with "Hola" and "haha."
The men became friends that day despite the language barrier.
There was no language barrier when my neighbor and his wife first met at a nightclub--they spoke the same neighborhood slang.
My neighbor noticed that the girls in his area didn't like to be called "hun," so when he slipped, he'd say, "Sorry about that, babe." But his wife didn't mind, because she grew up a mere block from his house.
Nowadays, he continues to show his wife how he loves her in inventive ways-- like when he bought her a motorcycle for her birthday, so he could drive it while she sat on the back.
It was two nights before I moved from my apartment and I'd still not fulfilled his open ended dinner invitation from when I first moved in. So I called out to him as he drove his white contractor van into his unfinished driveway which he ripped up conveniently around Christmas.
"When can I come for dinner?"
"How about tonight?"
I'm busy tonight."
"Tomorrow. Our door's always open, babe."
So I went the next night at 5 p.m. and rang the bell. No one was home. I went for a bike ride and tried again at 7. Still no answer.
At 7:15 I ate a snack on my back porch and heard Frank Sinatra blasted from Big Blue. My neighbor was home. I called over the fence to see if we could do dessert instead.
"Come over right now!"
He poured wine and made leftovers from a gourmet feast he and his wife had for their children the weekend prior. He rinsed our dishes with the industrial sprayer above his sink after dinner. Then, he gave me a tour of his tree fort-like house.
His wife doesn't have a preference for the decor so he followed the inspiration of a client's house and chose banana leaf wallpaper for the kitchen. He added the MF (Monday Night Football) room with a step down to the left of the kitchen. The room includes a cardboard cutout of his daughter and her husband propped near the fireplace, a wall covered with other large and small family pictures, and a restaurant booth for intimate meals.
The kids took over the MF room as they grew, so he made the "Crystal Room" upstairs for him and his wife. The personal cocktail lounge makes the fourth bar in the house (including the one in Big Blue). There's also a cat door from that room to the roof where my neighbor created a ramp for the cat to run down. And there's a balcony off the second floor outfitted with a hot plate and coffee pot, and exercise bike discretely privatized with a window blind from the ceiling.
Outside was the masterpiece. "Little Blue" was pulled by a friend with a rope and construction machine farther back in the yard --past the waterfall and lighted pine trees-- to make room for Big Blue.
My neighbor turned on some Springsteen to its normal volume and asked if I could usually hear that over the fence. I admitted I could.
He cranked Margaritaville to the volume he'd like to play it and said he hoped to insulate the garage soon--right after the crown molding.
Once he papered a house with his music blasted too loud. A neighbor knocked at the door. "Mother of God," she said. "Yea I know who that is. Mary," he replied. The expression on her face made him quickly realize what she meant and he turned down the music. "Sorry about that, babe."
For another job, he recently contracted Mexican men who stood outside Home Depot as day laborers. He doesn't know any Spanish.
Fortunately, his wife Googled simple Spanish words and wrote them phonetically for him on a paper --which he left at home. So he made do with sick figures which he drew with marker on the dry wall where they worked.
He included shorts on himself and speech bubbles with "Hola" and "haha."
The men became friends that day despite the language barrier.
There was no language barrier when my neighbor and his wife first met at a nightclub--they spoke the same neighborhood slang.
My neighbor noticed that the girls in his area didn't like to be called "hun," so when he slipped, he'd say, "Sorry about that, babe." But his wife didn't mind, because she grew up a mere block from his house.
Neither wanted to go
the night they met. My neighbor's friend convinced him. He said his wife owes her happiness to
that man (to which she agreed).
My neighbor was persistent in the pursuit since he wife did not readily fall for his creative genius.
He called their relationship a miracle.
My neighbor sees simple things in life as miracles-- like snow.
People were sick of snow by the final storm last winter, but not my neighbor. He smiled huge and told me how stupid snow blowers are because it takes all the fun out of shoveling. He said snow also gives people a break, and people need a break.
People were sick of snow by the final storm last winter, but not my neighbor. He smiled huge and told me how stupid snow blowers are because it takes all the fun out of shoveling. He said snow also gives people a break, and people need a break.
One day last winter, my neighbor told me all about his brother’s snow blower--how
it doesn’t work half the time, how it takes the joy out of manual labor.
His love for physical work and generosity was evident when he shoveled
his neighbor’s driveway because her husband had a stroke. He then walked down the
street with his shovel on his shoulder like a chimney sweep from Mary Poppins
and asked me, “Where’s your car, babe?"
We went to another neighbor’s driveway where I had parked my
car to get it off the street, and he said, “I’ll go sweep that off too,” – as
if the five inches were a light dusting.
His own driveway was un-shoveled.
He also noticed my landlord’s driveway, which was cleared by
snow blower.
“She used a snow blower on that?” he marveled. “I take back
half the things I said about that damn machine.”
He redid his driveway a few days before Christmas, and my
sarcasm about his impeccable timing was lost when he responded with glee, “I
know, isn’t the weather beautiful?” – which, incredibly, it was.
The weather was not as great when he attached extension cords to a Christmas star suspended by helium balloon 30 feet into the air Christmas Eve. Curses flew as that ornament swayed into trees and all over the place.
The weather was not as great when he attached extension cords to a Christmas star suspended by helium balloon 30 feet into the air Christmas Eve. Curses flew as that ornament swayed into trees and all over the place.
My neighbor is the go-to man for homemade eggnog at Christmas, the one who entertains many, and the one who gets "the call" if my lady landlords needed a man to help them.
My neighbor was an excellent help when he arranged a funeral procession and prayers for my landlord's dog after another canine delivered a fatal bite to its neck– the girl
too small to hold the larger dog’s leash watched in horror.
He dug the dog’s
grave with his son, took the deceased pooch on a solemn funeral procession to all her favorite places around the yard, and prayed a Hail Mary by its graveside for the sweet pet's soul.
My neighbor is a miracle. Amen.
My neighbor is a miracle. Amen.
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