Stunned

My mom called me around 7pm last night to tell me that her neighbor's house had caught fire. The fire department was still there, and mom was still pretty 'keyed up'. She called a couple hours later, and told me more. I was relieved that the house was not a complete loss. Mostly the damage is inside-the fire started with the oven. The kitchen and dining room are a total loss, and many other rooms have smoke or water damage. But the structure is still standing, all four walls are still up. The news saddened and stunned me. I feel the loss almost as deeply as if it were ours.

Mom & Dad's neighbors are 'Aunt Carol & Uncle Walt' to my sister and I. They moved in to the house in July, 1974. My parents were married in December, 1974, and moved into their house. Aunt Carol & Uncle Walt's oldest son was born in the fall of '74. I came along in June, 1976, my sister in November 1978, then two more boys for Aunt Carol & Uncle Walt. We grew up with their boys. I don't know how we started calling them Aunt & Uncle, or why. Or maybe their son started calling my parents Aunt & Uncle, and we just followed along. But for whatever reason, we call them Aunt & Uncle, even to this day. Sydney calls them Aunt & Uncle too. The boys call my parents Aunt Kathy & Uncle Mark; and I imagine their children will too.

It was hard when we were in high school- Uncle Walt taught (and still does teach, well, until this June) in the middle school that is adjacent to the high school. My sister and I were always catching ourselves, and stumbling over 'Mr. Knightes'. Which was so foreign to us. All our other neighbors were Mr. & Mrs.... Mr. & Mrs. Bartron, Mr. & Mrs. Gerstel. Except for Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid, who really WERE our Aunt & Uncle of course. (Uncle Sid was my Grandpa Wager's brother. Should you wonder about the place he had in our lives, just think for a minute what my niece's name is: Sydney. Now you know.) Of course, Aunt Carol & Uncle Walt lived next to us longer than the other neighbors. The Bartrons moved in when I was 4. I don't remember when the Gerstels moved in, but I know we played together as kids. But I have a recollection of the woman who lived there before, so maybe they moved in around the time, or after, the Bartrons.

Whenever our friends would hear us refer to them as 'Aunt & Uncle', they puzzled over the connection. When we explained we weren't related, and we just called them 'Aunt & Uncle'; our friends asked 'Why?' Our response was always, 'I don't know, we've always done it'.

So when someone has been your neighbor (and even though I don't live there anymore, I still think of them as 'my' neighbors, because mom's house is still home) all your life, you feel the loss just as they do. But I think we also felt it in a different way, because their house is connected to our family.

Our neighborhood was built on what used to be my Grandfather's family farm. The original homestead is where Aunt Hazel & Uncle Sid lived. It hasn't been in the family for about 10 years or so. Aunt Carol & Uncle Walt's house, and mom & dad's house were built at the same time, sometime around 1900. Simple, two story frame houses, with full cellars and attics. Yes, cellars. Stone walls and dirt floors. I have a picture of the two houses from the nineteen-teens. Porches have been added, and Aunt Carol & Uncle Walt built an addition on theirs about 20 years ago, but other than that, the houses look the same. The houses remained in the family until the mid 1960s, when a couple (whom are actually distant cousins) bought what is now Aunt Carol & Uncle Walt's house from my Grandfather. But it's still sort of in the family. The houses are part of our roots. Our house was occupied by a couple of mom's Aunts before mom & dad were married. Aunt Carol & Uncle Walt's house was my great-grandparents house. When mom remembers going to her grandparents, it is to their house.

My sister and I discussed it over email this morning, wondering how hard it was for mom to stand there and watch the fire. But I don't know that mom thought of it. Maybe later she did. But at the time, she did what she does best. She took care of everyone. She fed the fire department, comforted Aunt Carol, talked with Uncle Walt. I don't know if she felt she was watching a vital part of our history burn. Or if she had flashbacks to the Disaster that devastated Berlin in 1962.

Aunt Carol & Uncle Walt were not home at the time the fire started. They had been walking their dogs. So while they have a lot of rebuilding to do, it could have been so much worse. They are fortunate- the material things can be replaced. Mom said their bird died, but otherwise they are ok. I hope the community will come together to help them. They have given so much to the community in the 36 years they have lived there.

My grandfather used to joke that the houses were built by drunk Dutchmen. If you look closely at the walls- where the walls meet the ceilings, you will notice they are a little crooked. Nothing in the houses is perfectly square, or level. You have to really look, but you will see that the door frames sit at an ever so subtle angle. But apparently those drunk Dutchmen knew what they were doing- the house is still standing. And hopefully the two will continue to stand strong for many years.