Tuesday, April 10, 2012


Well, again the NaBloPoMo link has failed to give a prompt for writing.  They have missed yesterday and today and sometimes I NEED that help.  So I've been forced to try and come up with some ideas on my own.  Okay, I think I will write about neighbors, our neighbors.  I will start as far back as I can remember. 

When I was 6 years old our family moved to Siloam Springs, Arkansas, the second part of my first grade.  We moved to the country, way out in the middle of nowhere.  We lived in a two story farmhouse with pig sty's, no pigs, thank goodness.  The roads were dirt and rock and the one that ran in front of our house was a part of a three-way split.  One way led up a huge hill, a mountain to a 6 year old, and the other around the bend to my friend Sharon's house.  We only lived in that house for 6 months but a lot of memories were made then.  Up the "hill" were Fred and Mary and I believe an older daughter.  Mother loved them but I don't remember too much about them.  Sharon, my friend and saviour on the bus rides to school, lived in a very small house with her parents and a passel full of children.  What comes to mind is Ma and Pa Kettle kind of family.  Sharon had a pet baby raccoon.  That was so awesome.  She was a few years older than me and a tomboy, again my saviour on the bus.  The school system was so small then that all the grades rode the same bus.  The older boys were very mean to me and she protected me. 

Now we skip ahead, a couple of houses later, actually to the house I spent most of my life in.  The one Daddy still lives. 
You see to the left there, another house.  Both houses were built by a widow lady for investment.  Her name I believe was Mrs. Elsie Koshow.  She was remarried to a man named Mr. Herman Schumacher.  They were both widowers at the time and he had a daughter.  She had no children.  The houses were nearly the same but I really don't remember what theirs looked like inside.  Mrs. (Koshow) Schumacher had a reputation with neighborhood kids as being a witch and being incredibly mean.  We three kids did not believe that, we were their friends.  In fact, we loved Mr. Schumacher better.  He was a darling man and everyday as we walked to school and home again he would sit in his window or on the porch and wave to us.  If he wasn't there we knew he was sick.  If he was sick we would bake cookies and make cards and take them to him. 

Mrs. Schumacher had long, very long hair to her knees and when she washed it, would walk up and down the sidewalk letting it flow behind her to dry.  I loved it.  Sadly, when I was a senior in high school Mrs. Schumacher passed away and he moved to Wagoner to be closer to his daughter.  When they lived next door he had a fig tree in his back yard and he pampered that thing.  Every year, the first fig, he would call and I would get to eat it.  So yummy.  I still have a cute little evergreen scented candle in a glass jar he gave to us for Christmas one year.  A prized possession.  After he moved to Wagoner I continued to write to him and have many letters he wrote back.  He was a sweet man.  He died the first year I was married and it made me very sad. 

I'll write about the next neighbors sometime soon. 

1 comment:

Beryl said...

It interesting to look back on neighbors and try to remember as much about them as we can. The vision of your neighbor washing her hair and drying it in the wind is quite vivid!
I will have to Google NaBloPoMo one of these days. It's a way to get topics for blog posts?