"Imagine all the people living life in peace. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.
I hope someday you'll join us, and the world will be as one. "
~John Lennon


Saturday, April 14, 2012

Small Town Life

One day an 87 year old woman stopped by my place and knocked on the door. She and I had gone to dinner together a couple months ago not long after her husband passed away. She had picked me up a couple times but had not been in my little hippie house.

She walked into my place and her face lit up. She clapped her hands together and she said "This is like a doll house". We walked into each room and she looked at all the "CiCi touches" here and there and she said she would never be able to decorate like this, that she doesn't even know where to hang a picture. The smile never left her face while she was here, sitting and visiting easily. I have some pictures of my kids and grandkids around the place and she exclaimed how beautiful my family is. Can you tell I was eating this up?

A couple hours after my friend left, the woman who lives across from me called and said she and her husband had saved some mulch for me and would it be okay if she brought it over to put around the day lilies I had transplanted last year. Well duh, would I say no to that offer? She wheeled over two extra-large wheelbarrow loads of amazing mulch and scattered it around the plants that were peeping up in a row along the driveway, letting me know they are going to thrive this year in their new location. Wow.

Two days after that, another friend called me to ask if I wanted the old lawn mower she had and she brought it to me in the back of her truck. I mentioned the lawn mower to the director of the senior center and she said her uncle would probably like to take a look at it and get it running.

When I paid my car registration online I got two new license plates in the mail. I took the license plates into the senior center and held them up and one of the older gentlemen said he would put them on for me. He was able to remove the old license plate and replace it with the new one on the front, but could not remove the rusted screw holding the back license plate. I found out later that several of the men took turns with various tools trying to get that screw out. Then one day one of the men came by my house and knocked on the door to tell me he would be at my garage with some tools to work on getting out the rusted screw for me. One of my friends came by while he was out there working and she and I watched him and visited with him while he was able to remove the screw and install my license plate. 

The gal who shared her garden veggies with me last year called to ask if I was still planning on growing my own garden this year. I told her that my big garden plans were built around the fact that there were two of us last year and I have decided that it is too much for me to do this year. She said she wants me to know I will have more than enough from her garden this year and not to regret giving up the garden idea. She and I had talked a lot about gardening and she knew I was excited to have a small garden here. Nice of her to think of me.

Then the friend who got me started going to the Bingo games in the small town 15 miles away told me that she and her husband want to ask me if I want to help them with weeding their garden and I would share in all the produce this year. Gads.

On the flip side, when my lady friend's husband passed away she told me how difficult it was for her to put stamps and address labels on the thank you cards she wanted to mail out to all the well wishers and sympathy cards she received. I went to her house and did the stamps and address labels for her and helped with a few things. When my crochet friend told me their TV died I told her to have her husband come get the one that was here, I didn't use it any longer for DVD's and was only using my computer, so they took the TV.

Sharing and caring is a way of life in this town. I have many more stories about this, but you get the picture.

16 comments:

Ms. A said...

Wow, Cici, you've got some really great friends. You are lucky indeed!

DJan said...

Wonderful! This is so uplifting and sweet. You are a very fortunate person. It might have something to do with YOU that you are being cared for by all your friends and neighbors. I am smiling, just thinking about all those people... :-)

Jeanie said...

I do get the picture and it is a very nice one. That kind of sharing and caring is a very special thing.

CiCi said...

Ms.A, I am so blessed to have absolute best, kindest, and fun friends here in this little town.
And then, I also have the neatest friends in blogland, smart, artsy, interesting, kind, and encouraging.

DJan, these are only a few of the wondrous events that many people are bestowing on me. I have never ever been the recipient of so much gentle love and sharing.

Jeni said...

For the most part, small towns and the people who reside in them, generally tend to operate in this manner. It gives an all-around feeling of peace and joy when these things happen, doesn't it?

Izzy said...

So very sweet.

Stickup Artist said...

When people are in smaller communities, they are just nicer. It's the same when I go camping. I recently did a couple nights camping, solo, and made more friends in 3 days than I do at home in 3 years! People in urban areas are just too busy, distracted, and frazzled...

Joanna Jenkins said...

There is great comfort in finding a place that really feels like "home". And to find an entire community to be a part of is a real bonus.

I'm not surprised that your "little hippie house" is loaded with warmth and charm. I can just imagine your dear friend and you walking from room to room sharing stories.

What a great place you live, CiCi. I'm so happy you have a wealth of friends surrounding you.

xoxo jj

Abby said...

That's awesome CiCi, all of it. I remember when I was really young, and how my mom always let cars into traffic. She'd say, "next time I'm pulling out, someone will let me in". What goes around comes around. One of the best lessons!

Heidrun Khokhar said...

I need to find a place like that. I once was very active all around the community but my health converted me into a hermit type.I just stopped mingling and even stopped calling people. Slowly they got fed up with me.
But somehow now I feel better now and I long for a more direct human connection than blogging. I do take the elderly neighbour shopping with me but I have difficulty understanding her broken English. She's Italian and I never learned that.
There are some senior centres but I haven't figured out if Buddy will be allowed to join in. He's under age (39 soon).

Brian Miller said...

nice...you really have developed a wonderful network of friends...so cool...

CiCi said...

Jeni, I am finding similar things in small towns around here. People looking out for each other, community.

Izzy, yes indeed.

Stickup Artist, glad to hear of your camping trip. I used to camp a lot and found campers friendly and generous and fun.

Joanna, you would like my little hippie house. It is comfy and colorful.

Abby, your mom taught by example. That is a wonderful way to learn how to treat others.

Heidrun, glad you are feeling better and looking for things to get you out with people again. I of course encourage you to visit senior centers.

terri said...

It almost seems to good to be true. And I'm tempted to comment about how fortunate you are, but I know it's more than good fortune. You reach out to others and help them. You reap what you sew. It makes sense that others want to reach out to help you.

Rock Chef said...

It is really great to hear that there are communities out there like that. Too often people don't know who lives 3 doors away, and don't really want to either.

Thanks for sharing these stories - it is the small things that really add up to being great.

Debby@Just Breathe said...

You are blessed. It takes a village and having friends who are willing to help each other is wonderful.

Hilary said...

You are clearly in a wonderful place.. one that's worthy of you and your own big heart.