(I can’t write with the eloquence of my daughters, but I will do my best to make a point.)

      With the passing of my father’s best friend this past week, I was reminiscing with my mother about my father’s friend.

     During the service, I sat with my mother, brother, sister and neighbors from the ‘Manor’ that my parents knew due to my father’s work. The stories that were told about living in the ‘Manor’, a childhood that I did not experience, were hysterical. I grew up on the ‘rich’ side of town, where there was no government cheese. (I was only made aware of that 9 years ago and not by my mother!)

     The ‘Manor’ was a sub-division on the west side of town that consisted of about 400 homes. The streets all named after states. Our town had 6 elementary schools, and 1 high school. I would not meet the people of the ‘Manor’ until the creation of a middle school in 7th grade. While my father worked with many men from the ‘Manor’, we did not socialize with them. It wasn’t until the 7th grade that I was meeting them for the first time.

     We were all middle-class, with the exception of government cheese for some homes, we had the same values and manners, and an amazing amount of respect for the ‘grown-ups’. Those were the days were anyone’s parents could discipline you. We didn’t have play dates, the sun came up you ate sugar loaded cereal, threw on you Though-Skins or Levis and were out the door. We were home for dinner and out again until the street lights came on.

     In the manor, there was a controlled chaos, hundreds of kids, hundreds of neighbors, many of who are still friends 50 years later, or 40 for the kids. The neighbors were helpful to each other, you could borrow easily and there was always a hand to help. This was the place where you’re dad goes to a poker game, and comes home with a horse.

     These aren’t my stories to tell, but they are stories that make you laugh until your sides hurt. They are insane stories, and it makes you wish life was like that now.

     I live in a neighborhood of 30 homes, a few retirees, but mostly families with kids in elementary school, in a very rural area, no street lights here. I have met and socialized with my neighbors numerous times. Yet, in this small little neighborhood, we don’t have the friendships of the ‘Manor’. We have play dates, every parent at a bus stop and no kids on bikes. We have wise asses, and what comes to mind, “when I was a kid, Mrs. So n’ So would have…” but we are in an age of lawsuits. I should note that my children are in college. My neighbors don’t lend a hand or a cup of sugar.

     My family is in the middle of a relocation, with my husband moving in the spring of 2011. I’m alone with a 20 year old son. We had a hurricane the end of August which left us without power for 9 days. We have well water, so the pump was not working. No toilet flushing, we drove to the lake to put lake water in storage containers so we could flush.

     Of the 30 houses in the neighborhood, roughly 25 had generators. Not once during the 9 days did a neighbor ask if I needed water. We could have connected a couple hoses and had water. I watched the neighbors wander from generator house to generator house, their kids playing…outside, it was a novelty.

     Yesterday we had 8 inches of snow…(you know where I’m going here don’t you). Everyone around me has snow blowers. I have an 60’ driveway that goes uphill, or downhill depending on where you’re standing. So in 18 degree weather, I watched my neighbors happily plow as I shoveled. Now, my neighbors are aware that I am here alone with a 20 year old. Yes, he is a 20 year old…need I say more? The neighbor across the street was away, he has a snow blower, his wife was shoveling the end of the driveway. As I shoveled I looked up and thought, “maybe I should offer to help her…” That’s right, me with a shovel was willing to offer to help shovel a driveway longer than my own.

    It was at that moment that a little light bulb went off. It’s 18 degrees, I have a shovel and 9” of snow, and I’m a 47 year old woman and I considering helping my younger neighbor shovel. Eff them! Of course, not five minutes later another neighbor came over and offered to plow her driveway. It showed me how much being a good neighbor was not even a consideration in the 2010’s. For a minute I wished it was 1976 and I lived in the ‘Manor’.