Flashback Fridays 2009-5

This was our first house when Bill and I were newlyweds. I have so many good memories in this house from this time of my life. If you look closely on the front right window you can see Erin's birth announcement in the window. As soon as we came home from the hospital Bill set to work with some construction paper, scissors, and tape to proudly proclaim the birth of our first baby. I can still see him standing in our living room, that had no furniture and I mean NO furniture, cutting out those letters.

It was sad to leave this house, we worked really hard on it. Inside it was a cosmetic nightmare. We scraped lots of old, nasty wallpaper (sometimes up to three layers of hideous wallpaper) before we could paint, prepared floors which involved more scrapping to remove carpet from the kitchen to lay vinyl (Why carpet in the kitchen? Hmmmm, I still haven't figured that one out.), and tons of other projects here and there. I always regret that we didn't take before and after pictures of that house.

Anyway, one of my first and favorite memories with this house was our neighbor Harold H.. Bill had bought the house while we were dating with the intention of fixing it up and flipping it. I remember him telling stories of the little, old man that lived next door. Since I didn't know where the house was located at this point in our courtship, I was never able to connect the dots that I already knew, and was good friends, with the little, old man next door. At some point after our engagement, Bill took me to see the house to see if we should keep it instead of fixing it and selling it. It was then that I realized that Harold would be my neighbor. Sweet.

Harold and I met in an institute class. He was a recent convert to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Harold was having trouble keeping up with the class and learning the parables of the New Testament, so I offered to help him. We quickly became great friends. We studied the Bible together, did early morning, weekly sessions at the temple together, the 6 AM session, and he always had a smile on his face. He taught me little bits of the mandarin language that he had learned in the service, shared stories of his 13 kids, 70+ grandkids, 30+ great grandkids, and his recently passed wife. Harold constantly gave me copies of poems and prayers that he would copy for me. I called him Grandpa. He was a sweet man. He always had candy in his pockets, and the little kids (and adults too) knew where to go for a treat at church or institute. He was my friend.

It was sad when he passed. I remember him being very ill, and several times the ambulance would come for him in the middle of the night or during the day. The first time the ambulance came I remember wondering if that ambulance ride would be his last, but Harold was a fighter and eventually he came back home time and time again. He was in and out of the hospital until it was finally his time. I think of him often, and I believe that he is happy to be reunited with his wife, Donna, and I bet he is passing out candy and smiles in heaven.

Mercy, thanks for letting me stroll down memory lane. I didn't set out to write about Harold today, but I'm glad my typing fingers and memory led me down that road. I planned to write about the trials, struggles, experiences, lessons, and such that I learned as a new wife, a new mother, and a "grown-up" up surrounded by wonderful neighbors and great friends. For Harold and many other reasons, life in that little house is a time that I shall never forget.