Tribute to the Bluff 2 - Strangers To Family

If you read my last post, this is the second of this month's Tribute to the Bluff.  The piece of property my parents bought as a young couple, seeking to start their life together and raise a family on.  I'm taking a break from my present fast-paced living to pause and relish the small moments in my past; honoring the simple deposits into my childhood for which I'm truly grateful for.  

The only thing left standing on the Enzminger Ponderosa is one large oak tree.  When I was young, I didn't recognize this tree all that much.  It was surrounded by scrubs and other trees and a little red house sat in front of it, that of a elderly couple named Jim and Margaret Peterson. 

(Margaret and Jim Peterson with our dog Tara)

They owned the twelve acre bluff, which was a small portion of the 400 acre homestead owned by Margaret's father.  

In 1969, my young parents knocked on Peterson's door with a bold request - to ask Jim & Margaret if they could buy one acre of their property from them.  They said no, but then added, "You can buy 11.5 acres from us though." Shocked by their response, knowing they could not afford to buy almost the entire piece of property, Jim and Margaret Peterson gave my parents a deal they could not refuse. A most generous gift. The transaction was made, and these strangers became neighbors.  And the old oak tree watched as this young couple began working the land and raising my brother and me in their double wide mobile home on the northeast corner of the property; making it their home.

 (Me in front of the double-wide)

My brother Adam and I would ride our bikes (or motorcycles) down the lane to Jim and Margaret's little red house. They didn't have any children of their own so we gladly took the liberty of being spoiled by them.  Our neighbors became our friends. 

Margaret had a doll I gravitated to every time I stepped foot into their house.  I would rummage through the toy box just to hold the doll while I was there.  Her body was odd shaped, made of a gray cloth and red polka-dotted plastic material. Her plastic face had a cracked chin held together by a small bandaid. She wasn't a pretty doll, but I loved her still.  It was her big blue painted eyes that stole my heart. Before leaving their house, I'd always ask if I could take her home with me...

Margaret would kindly remind me that this was her home, but I could visit any time. After the Petersons moved off the bluff many years later, Margaret finally granted me permission to take her home with me. 

Our favorite time at Jim and Margaret's was pulling up to Jim's bar in his pool room.  I'm speaking billiards here.  I would place my order for a 7UP and Adam always had a Pepsi on the rocks.  Jim would place our full classes on a battery powered contraption (I don't have a better word for it) that would motor our drinks to our side of the bar.  Even though Jim would do this routine every time, Adam and I would anxiously watch as the full glasses approached the edge of the bar at full speed.  And just in the nick of time, it would stop.  Laughter always ensued, and Jim's shoulders would shake up and down as he laughed, tears welling up in his eyes.  It never failed...laughter brought on Jim's tears and caused him to pull out his cloth handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his eyes.  Jim was the first one who taught me that tears can be happy.  That tears can also be an expression of joy and happiness. 

Selfishly, Adam and I went over to Jim and Margaret's because we knew they had toys, soda, and unusual contraptions, but we also knew our time together brought them joy. We began calling Jim and Margaret our godparents.

Jim died before I was married, but I was blessed to have Margaret, represented as one of my grandmothers at my wedding. When I look at that old oak tree still standing, I don't think about things.  I think about people and how they made me feel.  I'm not writing about all the homework I had to do, all the responsibilities required of me growing up, the school projects or deadlines...when time passes we remember the people and the memories we shared with them. 

I wish life could be lived in hindsight all the time.  I think there would be less regrets that way.  My last moments with Margaret was sitting by her bedside, not knowing if she could hear my last words to her.  She couldn't respond back.  Through heartfelt tears and great sadness, I expressed my love to her the best way I knew how as a 26 year old. Praying she could somehow know how much she meant to me. 

That oak tree saw strangers become neighbors. And neighbors become friends.  Friends earn the title of "godparents" and then become forever family.

Don't take for granted the people around you. Those neighbors living right beside you could be a hidden treasure for you and your children - new members of your family!

(They loved us as their own.  Here Adam and I are with Jim & Margaret 

and their niece and nephew)