Middle Age Plus

A house by the side of the road

A poem by Edgar Guest has been in my mind this week. It begins with the phrase, "Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man."

I think later in the poem the phrase ends with "and give a helping hand."

I am remembering this poem because of the death of our nearest neighbor, Bill McDowell, who lived in a house by the road that we always take when we go to town, or go west on Highway 54. He certainly was one who would help anyone who was in trouble.

I remember that he helped my late sister, Miriam, when she got her car stuck in the ditch in a rainy season. She told me how wonderful he looked to her when he came to get her back on the road.

Several times others in our family have had some sort of trouble on his road and he was always ready to help out. Little favors that continue year after year become more precious than some big dramatic experience.

That is what Bill's presence in our neighborhood was -- a quiet, dependable source of help and friendship. In other words, he showed what a good neighbor is.

One of the things that I will miss the most is his friendliness. I never passed their neat home when he was outside that he wouldn't stop whatever he was doing and give a big wave to me.

Since his house is between our house and the highway, and he had property on the other side of the highway, we often would meet on the road. I never had to worry about pulling too far over toward the ditch if Bill was driving the truck I was meeting. He would give me most of the right of way, or stop to let me pass. That doesn't always happen on our road, and I appreciated it very much.

During the growing season it was always a joy to drive past their home. The lucious garden with little humorous touches of figurines in the corner, the well kept lawn with flower beds neatly trimmed made me ashamed of my attempts at home to create beauty.

I had thought that Mona cared for most of these things, but she tells me that Bill was the gardener. His goal each year was to have a better garden than another neighbor, Maxine Halcomb.

A big black dog that adopted the McDowells‚ showed the wisdom that such animals have. The dog thought the world of Bill (and Bill felt the same about the dog) and will be a lonely fellow now.

Since Bill didn't like to go out much at night, when I would return from a night meeting it was always a comforting sight to see the light in the living room and sometimes I could see Bill watching television from his chair. It was like a lighthouse signal that showed the way to home.

The large crowd that attended the services for Bill showed that I was not alone in my respect for this good man. The neighborhood will not be the same without him. But it is much better because he was part of us for so many years.

Those of us who have childhood memories of a certain area hate to see it change and it always will change.

The "Welty House" was an important fixture in my early days. It has taken on more importance to me now that it has been the home of such fine people. We will try to be whatever help we can to Mona as she adjusts to this loss which we all feel.