The Moving Van

Well, if the week hasn't been crappy enough, outside my office window this morning there arose such a clatter, that I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter. Lo and behold, in the mud and the muck, to my dismay sat a big moving truck. If you've read my blog very much, you know that my daddy can do anything. He can beat up your daddy. He can invent little play toys out of wooden spools, rubber bands, toothpicks and a little chunk of soap. He can build a car from scratch in his little workshop. (I speak the truth!) He can fix your lawn mower or your garf card (Leyland-speak for golf cart). He can clean out the gutters, grow the best garden, resurrect a broken down car. He can light your pilot light, fix a water leak, repair shingles on the roof. He can talk to someone on the other side of the world on a radio he built himself. He can fix whatever ails anything that ails. In other words, My Daddy is The Best Daddy In The World. Ever. Period. And it does not matter that a goodly portion of the aforementioned skills are now referred to in the past tense... i.e.... my daddy COULD do such and such.. it matters not one bit. Oh, he could still do them, it's just that he is wise enough to know that brilliant as his mind is, his body is aging, and many of those things are simply too risky for him to do. We'd all much prefer he live out the rest of his life at a slower pace and stay with us longer. We can find someone else to do the chores that he has done for so long. Of course, not to the degree of perfection that we have come to appreciate from my dad... but...

So what does this have to do with a moving truck? Is my daddy moving? Nope. He's stayin' right there on the corner of Broad and Mulberry, just a good shout from me, hopefully for a long, long time yet to come. I bought my current home, lovingly referred to as "The Pink House", (it is a funky salmon color) or "The 409" (because that's my address. yawn. how original.) in 2005. I purchased it from some dear friends. I had visited here before, never suspecting that one day this very address would appear on my utility bills. Along with my purchase, I inherited the most wonderful neighbors. If memory serves me, Alex even sat in on one of the conversations I had with the Johnsons when we were negotiating the sale. He was pretty much a fixture around here, and from what I understand, could be found out in the yard or sitting around their table most any afternoon. Like me, his wife Kim works long hours, and wasn't able to talk over the proverbial fence as much, but Alex made himself at home here, and the Johnsons likewise at their home. I was delighted to find out from Kim that "there's nothing she can break that Alex can't fix." Even though it was a tough pill for me to swallow, I too, had to accept the fact that My Daddy, Superman that he is, must ramp it down a bit, and not do all the things that he used to do. Father Time = kryptonite. So. I was thrilled to have inherited The Neighbors, and Alex became my go-to person for all those pesky Guy Things that need doing. Before the kids moved in, he even mowed my lawn for me and cleaned out the gutters. (Of course, with a strappin' young man residing here now, that chore has been relegated to Dustin...) Any kind of electrical problem, hammering project, digging, drilling, assembling things, or replacing stuff, Alex was always there to take care of it. During my carport remodel last year he was very helpful, and took the bathroom lighting project to a higher level because I "needed double lighting to put on my makeup". He informed me that I bought the wrong light fixture because it was gold, and my lavatory fixtures were silver. (I never even noticed.)He repaired a leak on the roof of my house without my even asking. He has worked underneath my house fixing stuff, "fished" a cable wire down the wall because he didn't like the way the cable installer did it. He has reconnected cooling/heating vents under my house when, for whatever reason, they would come unhooked. I could go on.

And it's not only me that he has spoiled. DJ & David, Johnny & Sharon, Jim & Terry, Jack & Lucy, Kim's mom, Rudy & Debbie, Steve & Teresa, Artie & Tammy... could all make lists longer even than my own. He belongs to everyone on our street. He's "our" Alex. He does work for anyone who asks. And unless it's just a huge job and you force it down his shirt pocket, he will not accept money. I normally bring him a couple of cases of PBR in a meager attempt at appreciation. He just smiles and says "thanks".

Rumor had it a month or so back, that they were possibly moving. Kim was up for a promotion that would relocate her to middle Florida. Though we didn't wish her any ill-will about the promotion, I can tell you, lots of folks on Sunset have been praying for an alternative situation... one that would allow her to be promoted, yet stay here. Unfortunately for our family of neighbors, (but congratulations, Kim!) the promotion went through, and she has already gone. Today the movers arrived to get most of their things.

Alex will be staying behind to get the house ready for rental. There is no work for him in Florida, and he has said that as long as he continues to get work here, he will stay. He works with contractors in all phases of construction, remodeling, whatever. Like my daddy, he can do it all!

So now our prayer is that we can keep him. We're hoping for lots of work to come his way. The guys who live on the other side of him are like me... they depend on him for pretty much everything.

This morning I wanted to go tell the movers they were at the wrong house. I'm still not over it.