Jimmy retired a few years back and settled into a life of fewer responsibilities with more leisure opportunities – but, mostly just being able to sleep in. The ultimate goal of his entire working career was aimed at finally being able to sleep in every morning until he woke up – not until the alarm clock (or some other rude cacophony) woke him up. After nowhere near enough lazy retirement mornings, he gained a new next door neighbor. This distressed Jimmy to no end because he had just finished “training” his former neighbors to leave him alone and didn’t want to invest the energy required to educate an entirely new set of neighbors.

Jimmy’s training program for the perfect neighbor was relatively simple; don’t talk to Jimmy and he won’t talk to you, don’t let your dog run loose and he won’t call animal control, don’t wake him up too early and he won’t hire an excavator to demolish your house – a very simple approach to being a good neighbor. Jimmy thinks anyone (and everyone) can (and should) learn these rules.

However, Jimmy may have met his match with his new neighbor, Mrs. Blankenship. She is a petite widow of strong faith and an even stronger disposition. She begins every morning, at exactly 6:30, by walking out on her front stoop, raising her hands towards the heavens, and proclaiming her faith in God as loudly as she can. After just a few moments of professing her faith, at the top of her lungs, with every fiber of her being, aimed directly at Jimmy’s bedroom window, she goes back inside and makes a pot of coffee.

This practice did not sit well with Jimmy. After several mornings of Mrs. Blankenship’s proclamations, Jimmy had just about had enough. There was nothing in his retirement package that required him to tolerate ANYTHING at 6:30 in the morning. Mrs. Blankenship walked out on her stoop, exalted the Lord with the fervor of an evangelist at a tent revival meeting, and was about to return to her coffee pot when Jimmy raised his bedroom window and screamed (as loudly as any man half-awake can scream), “God isn’t here!”

It must be explained that Jimmy isn’t a heathen. He isn’t a believer in disbelieving. He doesn’t maintain atheistic skepticism. Maintaining anything, especially a non-religious philosophy, requires effort that Jimmy doesn’t want to exert at 6:30 in the morning.

This early morning confrontation continued for the first several years of Jimmy’s retirement. Mrs. Blankenship would shout out praises, immediately countered by Jimmy’s open windowed retort, “God’s not here. Try your other neighbors.” Unfortunately, Mrs. Blankenship fell on some hard times and was struggling to make ends meet. Jimmy got wind of Mrs. Blankenship’s plight and found that one miniscule kernel of good, buried deep within all of us. He purchased several bags of groceries and discreetly left them on her front stoop.

The next morning, at exactly 6:30, Jimmy was jolted awake by Mrs. Blankenship’s joyous adulation, “Praise the Lord for the groceries He has bestowed upon me.”

Jimmy threw open his window and growled through the sleep induced fog in his head, “God didn’t get you those Groceries. I did!”

Immediately, Mrs. Blankenship raised her hands to the heavens and shouted for all to hear, “Praise God for the groceries and making the Devil pay for them.”

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.