Jack is our cat. Jack’s best friend was our neighbor, Rita. Rita lived alone, and while we were packing from our rent house to move into our first house, Rita told us she’d invite Jack into her home and Jack would accept her invitation. That is my favorite memory of Jack - Jack is still living.
We made a Hands-ful of new neighbor friends at our first home. I call them neighbor friends because even though we’ve been a city apart for three years, they still feel close. Jack was Rita’s neighbor friend. I wrote to her once after we moved letting her know Jack was settling in okay. I still think about Rita, and I know Jack does, too.
Donnie was my most strange neighbor friend; he was neat. Matt wanted a fountain, and he would encourage Matt to get a fountain as he cleaned his own with a toothbrush. I was opposed because I have criteria - is it easy to clean?
Matt finally received a fountain - it was the fountain his dad got as a Christmas gift for his step-mom who passed in June ‘21. The fountain came to us in its unopened packaging. That’s probably definitely the only fountain I would agree to. The deer drink from it, so it needs cleaning even more frequently, and even one now. #backwash Donnie won.
Donnie made pecan pies, all from scratch. I gave friends vacuums, Donnie gave friends pecan pies. My dad remembered his pecan pies today. My freezer in our first home always had a pecan pie in it. I don’t use absolutes unless they’re necessary and that is a necessary absolute. He was proud of his scratch pecan pie, a recipe he perfected to his perfection - and he did not write the recipe down, I think I remember, he said he just had it committed to his memory. When he was telling me about it, I think he was most proud of how not sweet the sweet was. I can only think I remember what he said because he was witty, and I was keeping up. And I get that - my goal is to cook one thing without looking at a recipe; I don’t have one thing yet.
When we moved away into our second home, Donnie would call and I’d return his call with a letter. I’d write and he’d return my letter with a call. I tried to start a faux cupcake collection but I settled with just one; I am not much of a collector. One steady collection I do have is of voicemails. It’s a dear collection - Donnie is among the voices beside my grandma and aunts.
I learned my favorite memory of Donnie today - he has passed; I am not surprised he would hold on until his service fell in the midst of Holy Week this year. My favorite memory of Donnie is he wrote down Bible verses he wanted read at his funeral. It sounds like he wrote a lot of notes and they remained where he put them because that list of Scripture was found by his wife, a dear neighbor friend, too. I got my first housecoat after seeing her in hers walking directly across the street to all of our mailboxes situated in front of our house; I got a second housecoat for the winter. That hide-seek and find of his note is a precious Holy Spirit moment I am grateful was shared with who Donnie gathered this morning because I was struggling with what my favorite memory of him would be. I was not surprised we sang “Faith of Our Fathers” this morning. I would have been surprised if we didn’t. I have great memories listening to my grandpa sing that hymn in Mass; he always sang it at the same volume - loud.
Donnie’s List:
Psalm 23
Romans 10:9
John 11:25-26
I was reading the front page of Donnie’s program, and it wasn’t until I got to the end I realized they were his very own words. It sounds like something a boy who is close to the Lord but has fish to catch, scratch pecan pies to bake, poker to play, leaves to sweep, white crew socks to soil etc etc etc. would write. Matt and I would watch from the window to see when Donnie would come home from the poker room - Donnie would outlast our post. He was a neighbor friend hoot! #close
I had a joy in sharing my brand new-found connection with writing with Donnie and Shirley because I have only one card from Donnie, and I knew, then, he wrote, too.
(April 6-7, 2023 You know how you meet someone you’ve never known but you feel like you’ve known that person your whole life? I met a clip of words like that in a hymn we sang to celebrate the kind of life Donnie had in him #eternal
“You need my hands, my exhaustion, working love for the rest of the weary — a love that’s willing to go on loving.” #workinglove
Am I right? That lyric feels just like that strange encounter, no?
We lived directly across the street from Donnie and Shirley, and a neighbor friend we lived beside told me a secret when we were moving away, “He’s going to miss you.” Our neighbor friends at Pinto Pony Lane were the kind of folks you’ll always miss more. And Donnie was that kind of folk on and off Pinto Pony Lane; we received the blessing.
I’ll not forget Matt knew our first house on Pinto Pony Lane was the house we needed to pursue - that’s my favorite memory of how Matt leads us.
On March 28, 2019 I took a video of Donnie, and my present self is thankful for my past self I did…
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