The corners of our Orange
Heights backyards connected. Until the
twigs of red tips sprouted into a full-blown hedge, we hung on the chain-link fence
for regular conversations with our neighbors—John and Dorothy Kenerly. Their grandchildren called them Papa John and
D Dot, so we did, too. In his baritone
voice, Papa John said, “Put some bone
meal on those red-tip sprouts and watch what happens.”
That’s exactly
what we did. And sure enough, it wasn’t
long before our kids—Alan, Emily and Eric—were tunneling through the bushes to
see what was happening at the Kenerlys.
There
were always happenings at Papa John and D Dot’s. Their workshop was a wonderland of activity to
behold. People came from far and wide
for the husband-and-wife team to fix this or
restore that. Skill, creative genius and
the patience of Job, made magic happen in the tiny structure where the lights
often burned until bedtime.
Time after
time, I witnessed a dilapidated pie safe or such of some granny turn into an
heirloom coveted by everyone in a family.
Papa John and D Dot had a knack for making treasures out of stuff most
folks would call junk. Come to our
house. We’ll show you. There’s not a room which doesn’t have proof
of their handiwork.
As gifted as
they were with their minds and hands, the Kenerlys had another talent which you
can’t buy even from Amazon. They had perfected the art of Southern
hospitality. The invisible welcome sign
was always on, and people knew it.
Papa John and D
Dot made you feel special. If he was carving
a piece of lumber on the band saw or she was staining an antique dresser, the
pair put down their work to make sure any visitor—young or old—was
welcome. Leveraging his dry wit, the
friendly craftsman kept his wife and guests laughing. I can hear D Dot now: “Papaaaaaaaaaaa.”
Heirlooms don’t
have to be exquisite vases, ornate tapestries, or armoires brought from the old
country by your long-since-departed kin.
Our ancestors didn’t have any expensive items to pass down to us, but D
Dot and Papa John certainly made so many of our hand-me-down items priceless
for our family. That’s why I believe
gold-plated memories, the kind the Kenerlys gave us, are heirlooms, too.
Money has its
importance. Life is expensive—food,
clothing, shelter, medicine, education and transportation. You know that never-stops-growing list. And
if there’s money left after the monthly obligations, recreation is more than a
frill. It’s a medicine of its own. But when that
day comes, and we are looking back, I don’t believe our checkbook balance
will really matter. Our true wealth will
be measured not by monetary standards but by those who have lovingly enriched
our lives: family and friends.
Yesterday, I paused
to look at one of D Dot’s oil paintings. Papa John had made the tobacco-stick frame. Thirty years have passed since I ducked
through the red-tip tunnel with a picture which I wanted D Dot to re-create on
canvas.
As I stared at
the scene, I remembered holding D Dot’s hand a few days before she went to
heaven to join Papa John. We both knew
it was a goodbye visit, so we retraced our favorite heirloom of backyard-neighbor
memories.
Ahhhh, those are things which a
warehouse of $100 bills cannot buy.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
