I was about 8-9 years old when the buzz of the neighborhood was that we were getting new neighbors. In today’s standards of people moving every few years, I supposed kids don’t think of a new neighbor moving in as such an event. Our society is mobile. People drive hours to get to work. The old fashioned concept of knowing all the people on the block is gone. But, I did. There were the Davidson’s on the corner. They were older and didn’t have children at home, so when we played kick the can and hide-go-seek, their yard was out of bounds. Any house that didn’t have a kid participating in our antics were off limits. We kids thought of that…a courtesy for their yards that were immaculately groomed, unlike our yard. We had ruts dug in where each base would be and a well worn path between them.
Mr. Hughes, Bill, was alone after his wife Ruth passed away. I didn’t like him then and I still don’t like him, though he has passed some 30 years ago. He was an obnoxious know-it-ALL and stuck his nose in our kid business until he had everyone arguing.
Next to him, were the Hanes and three girls. The oldest was in the same year as Randy, my brother, then the next in line was my best friend and a year ahead of me. Then next girl was a year behind me…Patti, Barbara and Donna. They were always happy to be out hanging out with us gang of kids.
But the new neighbor…what were they going to be like? We heard they were foreigners at birth. This added an aura of mystery. Would they look funny, or talk funny or more than those things…would they like me?
Soon, our old friends moved out. Auntie Kay and Uncle Bobby.. gone to a finer home. Now here comes this new man and woman into our lives. Mr. and Mrs. Mettler. They had first names, but I wasn’t going to be allowed to use it. After all, I was a little girl and we didn’t use first names. I heard that the first names were Ulrich and Augusta. wow. Now those are strange names. Would I like them?
The first day I met them, I fell head over heels in love with these two beautiful people. Mr. Mettler was about 5′2″ and Mrs..shorter yet. They looked like they could have fallen off of a wedding cake. Mr. Mettler had a gray crew cut and he could fix everything! Mrs. Mettler, she was the quietest, softest speaking woman I have ever met. I knew they just had to love me back.
Mr. Mettler was Swiss and Mrs. Mettler was from Germany. They still kept their thick accent, though they were Americans. To top off the whole package, Mr. Mettler could yodel. He could yodel his socks off. When we would be sitting on the patio, mom or dad would hear him puttering around the yard and they would yell, “Ollie, yodel something!” From somewhere behind his hedge, a string of the most beautiful musical notes drifting through the air. I loved it.
I remember so many details about Mrs. Mettler, but the one that comes to mind is her tidiness. Everything was minature and completely dust free and in its place. If you look up tidy, it should show her house.
Now, for the grapes. Mr. Mettler planted a grape and in time, it grew over his patio. It provided enough grapes for eating, making a batch of his famous wine and cool the house and patio like a natural air conditioner. It was like my own Magic Garden. I could sit there and be entertained by the hours just being with them.
As with all things good, the Mettler’s grew old and needed to be with their children. It was so sad to see them have to leave the block and move on. I believe Mr. Mettler passed first, but was in his 90’s and Mrs. Mettler passed close to 99. They didn’t get cheated out of life.
The Mettler’s moved away and we got a wonderful new friend, but he hated the grape. He hated the arbor, the mess and the work. Obviously, he didn’t know the love that grew with the new green vines every year. One day, he cut the arbor down, level with the ground. It was all ripped off the framework of the arbor and torn down. I am surprised he didn’t hack it wil an ax and set fire to the stump.
Several months later, mom heard what he had done and warned him…keep that news away from my daughter. He asked why? She told him about the love I had for this arbor and the caretakers of the arbor for all the years. He said, “well, she can have it if she wants it.”
We happened to be in Seattle and bless Mike, he went up and dug up the stump. It was a about the size of my forearm, and a bit of a root, but it was mine.
I brought it home and talked it into please growing and keeping all my memories alive of a life ideal for a kid to ever grow up in. My neighbor up here, laughed his socks off at my “stump”. He kept saying, it won’t grow. It won’t ever get big again!
Well, he was wrong. It grew and grew. It was happy to have wings again. It knew that somewhere, Mr. and Mrs. Mettler was looking down and smiling while my grandbabies play under a canopy of leaves and grapes. I sip iced tea in the summer and think of them. I have a porch swing under it and I rock and give thanks that I experinced the people in my young life that were so loving (except Bill Hughes) and helped all of us kids remember times…happy times of Kick the Can and Hide go Seek.
Time passes and we all grow up and leave. The neighborhood changes and changes, several times over. Mom stays the course for about 58 years, until she finally moved out. She was the last one to leave. It was time.
I am going to go out in a few minutes and sit under my arbor. I will sip my tea and think about all the wonderful neighbors I loved. They were all characters, from Esther and Bill Hebrank, the Stuart’s and Mr. and Mrs. Parrish. I am a lucky woman. I hope I will make a good memory for some little person and they will blog about me, a grape arbor they built from my grape start I gave them and will remember me with kindness and love. If I can pull that one off, I will have done it all.
