“Would you like some company?”

Living in Colorado  for nearly 40 years is vastly different from living in Braidwood in the 1940s and 1950s. Yes, the weather is consistently better, the Novembers are virtually cloudless during the days, and evenings see the temperatures drop by about 30 degrees. Driving west for our daily exercise at the Rec Center, 7 minutes from our house, we can see mountains that prove that snow has already arrived at the high elevations.

Our subdivision neighbors seem like nice people. Drivers passing our corner sometime wave if I’m outside and they aren’t too busy texting, phone calling, or otherwise preoccupied. Behind us are Jim and Sue, across to the west is Shirley, Kathy down the street, and to the north Jo and Matt. Except for next door neighbor, Ben, I don’t know their last names, or where they are from. Generally, my neighbors are from other states. We have lived in the same house for all these 40 years, surrounded by friendly strangers

Reminiscing

It is October 1956, Don Larsen recently pitched a perfect World Series game, and I am still in awe that he spun this gem on my 16th birthday. My Braidwood world is complete with the  strip mine hills, soon to be covered by snow in December, flanked by lakes slated to be frozen over and beckoning me to skate in early January.

 The telephone rings and mom answers. It’s Mildred Girot asking, “Would you like some company?” Of course mom says “yes,” so Mildren, Chuck, and daughter, Carole Jean, will visit tonight. As anticipated, Dad and Chuck will excuse themselves after the first 45 minutes of the visit and will go uptown to Dixon’s for a few beers while mom, Carole Ann, Kenny, and I stay at home with Mildred and Carole Jean.

Carole Jean is 17, a year older than me, but still doesn’t have a date for her high school dance and I become the topic of a conversation. Hints emerge that I might be her last resort, apparently with or without my concurrence. I am scared but am later relieved that she found another boy.

The evening is a replica of what we did as a family many times with friends and family. We went to their houses and visited in their kitchens or family rooms. We went to Elwood to the Ginter family (kids were Bobby, Patsy, and Jackie). George was mom’s brother. To mom’s sister’s house with Helen and Nick and the kids (Ronnie, JoAnne, and Nikki.) To Aunt June’s, with Homer, Peggy, and Janet. To Aunt Mary’s house along the railroad tracks in Wilmington and her kids, cousins Benny, Sandra, and Billy. Visits with Ray and Dorothy Van Duyne in Wilmington, or Olie and Mary Dahl in Lockport, usually involved only adult conversations, while we kids stayed mostly silent and bored.

Often people came to our house on East Main Street. Al and Anna Crater, Uncle Ray and Mary, Cliff Muncy, and mom’s sewing customers from all over Braidwood. Sales people, like the Jewell Tea man (Howard), the Fuller Brush man, and insurance man, Boby Watson, would come in and stay up to 20-30 minutes. Mom was always gracious and offered a cup of coffee before “hinting” them out the door.

In my town of Arvada, Colorado, I know the names of the streets and use GPS regularly for the metropolitan area. But I don’t know many people. In Braidwood, I didn’t always know the street names, but I knew everyone and where they lived by heart.

Still waiting for a neighbor to call and ask, “Would you like some company?” Not sure how I would respond.