MAY 11, 2024 – During moving day in August 1961, our family became next door neighbors of ourselves.
A year or two before, my parents had purchased the adjacent vacant lot from our neighbor Dr. Spurzem a few doors down and spent months planning their dream home. I remember well the process. Late into the summer evenings, Mother and Dad would sit at a table out on the back screened porch of 503 Rice and pore over and chat about elevations, floorplans and later, full blueprints of the house they planned to build on the newly acquired lot at 505 Rice.[1]
My parents were highly artistic, but both had a practical side too, and to my disappointment, practical won out over artistic when it came to the design of the new house. Practical meant American Colonial—or more precisely, faux American Colonial, since the year was 1960, not 1760, and besides, Minnesota was a million miles away from the original Thirteen Colonies. But since Dad loved reading about colonial history, and because Mother’s ancestors had been among the actual colonists of Massachusetts and Connecticut, I understand my parents’ affinity for a house style that mimicked the original colonial houses.
The actual move to the new house next door was easy. Lighter stuff could be carried from 503 to 505. Appliances and heavy furniture were placed on dollies or hand-trucks, wheeled down the driveway of 503 and up the driveway of 505. My parents wisely hired professional movers for the heavy items. Given that Grandpa Holman was on the board of directors of United Van Lines, the choice of movers was a foregone conclusion. I was amused, however, that the movers appeared in a full-length semi-tractor trailer.
Being thrifty, Mother and Dad had sold the old house on their own, avoiding a realtor’s commission. It hadn’t taken long to attract willing and able buyers—Roger and Wanda Schipper and their daughters, Mary, a year ahead of me in school, and Sandra, a toddler at the time they moved in. They also had a dog, Hector, who was mostly Roger’s—an all-beige mixed breed between the size of a cocker-spaniel and a Labrador.
Roger worked for the post office, was smart, well-spoken, and always even-keeled. I never heard him yell at anyone or Hector, even when Hector should’ve been yelled at, which was all the time. Not to be too disgusting about it, but nearly every time that Roger was talking to someone, Hector would amble up, sit, make his red penis appear from its sheath and lick the damn thing. Honestly, it was the most disgusting thing to have to see, and for the life of me I couldn’t understand how in the world Hector had developed such a habit and similarly, why Roger allowed it; why, he didn’t tell Hector either to stop—immediately!—or at least tell the gross dog to scram (just as immediately).
Roger got off work early every day—at around 4:00—and usually tended to the yard, keeping it trim and attractive. I was a little surprised, however, by his method of dealing with leaves in the fall. He’d rake them down into the street, then douse them with gasoline and re-enact a flame-thrower Marine in the Pacific Theater of WW II. Personally, I thought it was a bad idea.
Wanda Schipper was a piano teacher who launched her career as such at the same time as Mother did. As friends and next-door neighbors, however, Wanda and Mother weren’t rivals. They collaborated, and I remember joining Mary Schipper in handing out flyers to kids after school one day. The flyers told the world that both Mary’s mom and my mom were now “available to teach piano—all levels.” In short order, each of the freshly minted piano pedagogues[2] had a steady stream of after-school students.
Mary and I hung out a fair amount, but her wise-cracking sarcasm got to be a bit much sometimes. I had to give her credit though for being a good deal smarter than most of her classmates.
Eventually the Schippers moved to more modern quarters up on Park Street. Sandra the toddler grew up, married, had kids, and moved to Colorado. Mary? She wound up marrying Jonam Caine. (See 5/6 – 5/8/24 posts). (Cont.)
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© 2024 by Eric Nilsson
[1]At least a million times I accompanied Mother to the office of the draftsman who produced umpteen versions of the blueprints. His office was at the back end of Anoka Drug at the ancient strip mall just off West Main Street. He was tall, had curly hair, and a glass eye.
[2] Mother, I know, had just completed an intense course of piano pedagogical studies with Miles Mauney at the University of Minnesota – School of Music. (Miles and his twin brother, Ernest, had enjoyed a notable due-piano performing career until Ernest died at 34 of leukemia (1959). I’m not certain, but I believe Wanda had been in the same pedagogy course with Mother.
