Dearest Yandi,
These first four stories are from decades ago. They are (mostly) about the neighbors we had when we lived over by Watson Park. They were great neighbors, and it was a most wonderful time in our lives with your dad. He grew up with friends all around over block and these are just a few of the stories and antics that involved him, as well as the rest of us. Your dad had a wonderful childhood in this neighborhood and these neighbors were a big part of that.
I hope you are able to see glimpses of the remarkable life your dad had with everyone on 30th street. Have fun reading!
Love, Papa and Mimi
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Part 1 of 4
Great Neighbors (Them, not us)
It was 1988 and we had just moved into a new house. Well, new to us but built in the 1950’s. For us it was a step up. Why? Because we live in Kansas and this baby had a basement.
Below: The ‘new to us’ house on 30th. The twirlers on top (that you can barely see) is a story for another day.
Now I’m a Kansas girl born and raised, but at this point, I had not gotten over my fear of tornados. They terrified me. My husband Chris and I had started out in a little house with a crawl space underneath, and I lived in fear of a tornado with no basement. So, our new house on 30th Street had the much-desired basement! To us, we had ARRIVED.
Thinking back, it only took Chris a few years to break me of my intense reaction to tornados. Mix Chris in with growing up (we married at 22) and those 2 things combined took care of my fears. Make no mistake, I’m Kansas enough to know that if your ears pop or you see horizontal rain, take cover. But tornado sirens don’t really phase me anymore. I’ve heard too many and I’m married to Chris.
So, what does being married to Chris have to do with it? Well, he has absolutely no fear of tornados and therefore does not abide by a wife who does. In fact, Ken (Chris’s Dad) tells a story about when the sirens went off when Chris was a skinny and wiry little boy. About 3 or 4 years old. Back then, they didn’t have a basement, so they’d have to put all 5 kids into the crawl space. To get to the crawl space there was a hole in his parents’ bedroom closet. It was usually covered with plywood, but when the sirens screamed, off the plywood would come, and into the crawl space went 5 kids, 1 dog, and 2 parents. Well, at least when the plan was executed flawlessly which wasn’t often because of one member of their family.
Chris.
Ken would tell the story that getting Chris into that hole was nearly impossible. It was an opening about three feet by two feet. He said everyone else would go in the hole easy as could be. But not Chris. He’d pick him up to put him in and Chris would extend his arms and legs straight up and out, like a big X so he wouldn’t fit in the hole. Ken says he’d turn him left and right trying to make him fit, but Chris wouldn’t relax the ‘X’ so it was impossible to fit the little Chris in. He didn’t want to go in the hole. Ken would laugh with his deep, chest rumble and his shoulders would bounce up and down when he’d tell the story. All the other kids were looking up at him from the hole, and him turning Chris this way and that trying to get him in the blasted hole! Chris’s Mom tells me they never did get him into that hole.
As you can tell, Chris has a history. No fear. So, fast forward to the late 80’s, when the sirens would go off, I’d get up and get the kids and go to the basement. Chris? Nope. He’d stay in bed and go back to sleep. Or, like a true Kansan (or any Midwesterner) he’d often go outside and take a seat on the front porch to watch the show. Me? I’m carrying the kids down, tucking them in to protect them, certain
we are moments from chaos. Two polar opposites.
However, within a few short years of being married, I was over it. Now I join him on the porch. Otherwise, we’d be running downstairs a lot. Also, in our defense, in the 58 years, I’ve been in Kansas, I’ve only seen three tornados and one of those was in Oklahoma while the other was in Nebraska. The tornados that were the closest to us, we never did see. Just heard our ears pop (yes, we went to the basement). The 2nd one that was close, we were in Oklahoma and the horizontal rain came. I’ve never seen anything like it, and it was amazing! There was no basement at the place that we were at, so we went to a hallway as they directed us. On the way home, the telephone poles on the highway had almost all the tops sheared off. Pole still standing just fine, just the tops (and streetlights) were completely gone, nowhere to be found. Again, not something you see often. And it was dark. With all the streetlights gone, it was darker than normal, and it stood out. So, we saw the horizontal rain but never saw the tornado. But make no mistake, if there had been a basement, we’d have both been in it.
However, back to moving into the new house on 30th. I recall when we were moving in, having the thought ‘how will we ever fill all this space up?’ I was talking about the much-desired basement. Where in the world would we get the furniture and the décor and the stuff?
I also remember when we moved out some 15 years later thinking thoughts like ‘where in the world did all this stuff come from?’ And ‘why in the world would I buy that?’ And ‘that is so ugly, I almost like it again.’
But on this day in 1988, it was a good day. We were moving into our ‘new to us’ home and the previous owners had told us there were little boys in the neighborhood who were Jason’s age. He was 5 and we had hoped he’d make friends.
Not only were there boys that would become lifelong friends for Jason, but there were also great neighbors all over the place. We made a few life-long friends ourselves. And even today, living in a different home than the house on 30th, we live next door to neighbors we first got to know on 30th. Doug and Paula – great neighbors!
The house on 30th Street backed up to a park called Watson Park. Certainly not an upscale area, but the park had a small lake and paddle boats and ponies and playgrounds. A virtual fantasy for a young family with a 5-year-old (Jason) and one on the way (soon to be Jordan).
And we really did have wonderful neighbors for the most part (yes there was one grump, but only one). The others were good, good people.
Let me introduce you to a few of these good people.
Immediately next door, to the west of our home, was an awesome family that we are still crazy about. Comprised of Jay (the dad), Brenda (the mom), and James (the son, also known as Dubb).
Now Dubb was three years older than Jason (our oldest son) and Jason thought the world of him. He wanted to be him. If Dubb did it, Jason wanted to do it. They were life-long, best friends. They both played basketball at Wichita South High and Jay (the dad), Dubb and our Jason were all avid KU fans. Lots of time spent watching KU basketball games and in later years texting back and forth during KU games, coaching from the couch.
Now Neighbor Jay is a pretty straight shooter and a no-nonsense kind of guy. He was great around the kids and both he and Brenda did wonders helping us all keep the pack of kids on the block in line. A full-time job for all of the parents.
Brenda worked the 3rd shift for pretty much the entire time we lived on 30th street and with that came some responsibility for all of us including the kids.
They learned early, don’t ring the doorbell, or make excessive noise when playing outside by Jay and Brenda’s window, because Brenda was sleeping, and Neighbor Jay was on guard. You didn’t want to make him mad. That always impressed us because as Jason became older and wiser, even he understood the rules and worked to adhere to them so that Brenda could sleep. Making Neighbor Jay mad was never wise. You didn’t want him talking to you in that voice. That voice was stern enough to make the most rambunctious kid walk the straight and narrow. We appreciated it.
But it took one kid a few more ‘incidents’ to learn that, than the others. Which one kid? My kid.
Jason Matthew.
Now, remember when we moved there Jason was a young 5 years. He was….distracted. I once took him to the doctor to have his hearing tested because I was worried, he had hearing problems. I’m not joking. I was convinced he couldn’t hear well. I still remember the doctor sitting across from me in her office with an aura of confidence, telling me that he has a very specific kind of hearing issue. A specific kind of hearing problem??? I braced myself for the news, my heart starting to pound hard in my chest and in my own ears. What could that mean?
The diagnosis that day? Mother deafness. No joke. That’s exactly what she told me. I look back at that time and marvel at her brilliance. Spot on Dr. Pediatrician. Spot. On.
That is exactly what Jason had, mother deafness. He could hear the rest of the world, but not me.
And in the first few months of our life on 30th, apparently, he could not hear Neighbor Jay either. That was fixed in pretty short order.
Now understand this when Jason was young, he mostly behaved. There were consequences if he didn’t, so he knew the score. 95% of time, a great kid.
The other 5%? Well, those are where the stories come from. And I remember that occasional orneriness that would roar to the surface with such fondness. My little boy.
When he was in second grade, I learned from his kindergarten teacher (two years after the fact), that he once threw a wooden block across the room and hit her in the head. He wasn’t aiming at her, but he was definitely misbehaving and that was the outcome.
I was shocked when she told me this. Seriously stunned. Of course, I asked her why she hadn’t called me when it happened. She simply said, “he convinced me that if I called and told you, you would probably kill him. He was panicked that it would be just awful. So, I let it go.”
And there you have my little Jason Matthew. 95% good little guy, 5% out-of-control maniac, 100% top shelf salesman. He could convince many adults of most anything. He certainly convinced his kindergarten teacher that his mother would kill him, saving himself from certain annihilation. I’m sure by the time he was done, he was the victim of the situation.
Would he have been in trouble? Absolutely. Would he have been given a real ‘talking too’, grounded, or more? Without a doubt. In his 5-year-old mind, I’m sure it all was akin to death. But the fact he could sell it to adults still makes me smile to this day.
I remember in junior high when he was in trouble for something. I oddly can’t remember exactly what it was, but it was something that upset me, and it was going to be one of those intense, long-term groundings that Jason absolutely despised. He abhorred being grounded and would much prefer a few swats rather than being out of commission with grounding.
This particular teacher, Mr. Randolph, was far from a push over. In fact, you could probably label him one of the harder cases and just the type I like as a teacher. But Mr. Randolph calls me one evening and pleads Jason’s case. “He’s just a kid Allison, and it wasn’t that bad. I think you should cut him some slack.”
So, we did. Again, Jason selling his teacher on his status of angel since 1982. I work in sales and I’m telling you that there are some who are born to it.
However, also in junior high, he finally did have one teacher that was on to him. I can’t recall her name but she was his Spanish teacher and had a great reputation for being a very good teacher and the kids loved her as well.
I went to a parent/teacher conference, and she said something along the old line of ‘Jason could sell snow to a Eskimo.’ I had to admit that she was right. He was sometimes like a 14-year-old politician. Shaking hands and kissing babies. But then the most unexpected domino of all fell. She said, ‘he reminds me of my ex-husband.’
It sat me back in my chair. Here was one of the first adults (beyond Neighbor Jay) that was totally ON to Jason’s ‘routine’ so to speak. Now I don’t know anything about her ex-husband, but I can make a few guesses. I probably should have been offended concerning her statement as well as worried but on the way home, I could not stop laughing. It was funny.
I went home that night, and Chris and I sat Jason across the table and told him that he better keep every one of his ducks in a row because she had her eye on him. She was on to him. Of course, we implored him to shoot straight, do his work and be a good student. He assured us he would (of course), though I don’t think he really understood the alarm bells that should have been clamoring in being compared to her ex-husband. We told him there are a lot of people to desire to be compared to, but an ex-husband is never one of them. Years later (as an adult), he totally got it, and I’d tease about it. We had some really good laughs over it.
Honestly, I don’t know if he did straighten up his act, because I never heard from her again, which at the time I thought was a win. But even though we rode him on his homework, for the first time in his ‘school years’, it was ineffective. He did DO the homework, but apparently not up to snuff. Up until that point, if I recall correctly, Jason had good grades. Almost all A’s. A really smart cookie. But she sent him home with what I think was his first ‘C’ ever, succinctly putting him squarely in the doghouse. Well played Spanish teacher. Way to, in effect, thumb your nose at both your ex-husband and the kid that was likely not doing his work as well as pushing the wrong buttons for you.
But back to 1988. Keep in mind that Chris and I worked full time jobs. My mom would come over every day to babysit the kids and get Jason to school. Or to the park. Or to the grocery store. Or to McDonald’s. She was an awesome Grandma and took a load of worry off my shoulders knowing that someone who loved my kids as much as I did was caring for them.
But loving them and being able to consistently control them, are 2 different things.
So, one morning they had plans to go to the park. Jason was pumped and ready to go now. Mom had made the classic mistake of telling the kids what they were going to do before she was ready to do it. A novice mistake that we make at times. Having 3 kids of her own, I was surprised at my mom’s faux pas. But there it is. It was out there, and Jason was ready.
So, he is pumped and heads out to Mom’s car which is parked in the ‘side slot’ of the driveway so it doesn’t block the garage. That means, she’s parked almost next to the bedroom window where Brenda is trying to get her much needed sleep.
Mom is in the house changing baby Jordan, and Jason is in the car getting impatient. What does a 5-year-old, alone in a parked car do? He honks the horn.
Have you ever heard a 5-year-old honk a horn? It’s not a quick tap tap. It’s an in-your-face, as annoying as humanly possible HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK! HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK! HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!
He honks it so long the horn starts to waiver in the honk, sounding like a sick goose.
This horn not only signifies that Mamaw needs to hurry the heck up, but it is also a call to arms for Neighbor Jay who just happens to be home that day. Vacation or something else, I don’t know. But Neighbor Jay was in the house.
Mamaw yells out the door for Jason to stop. He does. He’s not going to keep doing it right in front of her as the 95% angel would show up when he was directly in front of an adult. So, he stops.
For about a minute. The 5% wild child was fighting to get out. I’m sure there was a quick glance to make sure Mamaw was back in the house and a quick glance to Neighbor Jay’s house to make sure there was no impending doom there.
Coast is clear and then another honk. It’s a doozy.
Then it happens. Neighbor Jay appears at his front door. He is on guard duty, and he is not happy. Not. Happy. At. All.
Now mind you, this isn’t the first time Jason has used the horn as a weapon to summon others to do his bidding. Once, he was with my brother Matt (Jason’s uncle). At this time Jason was about 3 years old. I can’t remember where Matt was taking him, but it was their first trip together.
Jason always had to be in his car seat in the backseat, however, Matt drove a truck. So, Jason was thrilled to be able to ride in the front seat AND to be let out of the car seat while Matt pumped gas. Now, this was Matt’s first time alone with a 3-year-old and he was learning the ins and outs.
On this day, Matt had left Jason in the front seat to run in and pay for the gas he had just pumped. Jason is having none of it, so he honked the horn. HOOOOOOONK. Matt, immediately embarrassed had walked back to the truck to explain to Jason that he was just going to be right at the window inside paying for the gas. Keep in mind, that Matt was about 23 at this point in his life and a bachelor. No training with children whatsoever. So, he’d been convinced that, since he’d made a very adult and valid explanation to Jason of where he is going and what he is doing, it would be fine. Jason would not honk the horn. Jason assured him that he understood with a ‘yes ‘Buncle Matt.’ Matt headed back in to pay for the gas.
No go. Matt got back to the door of the convenience store and HOOOOOOOOOOOONK. If I recall correctly Matt tried again to reason with Jason. Three steps away from the truck and again the horn blared. A quick study and Matt removed Jason from the truck and took him in with him. The cost? A juice box and some Skittles from the gas station.
Jason wins. And 2 years later, I’m thinking he recalls that situation as he lays on the horn to pressure Mamaw to hurry up.
But now, Neighbor Jay is walking to the car and in his deepest, most convincing voice tells Jason to ‘KNOCK IT OFF. Brenda is sleeping!’
‘KNOCK. IT. OFF!’
Immediately, Jason sits back and drops his hands to his lap and looks down, refusing to make eye contact with Neighbor Jay. The voice AND the stare, nope, he doesn’t want any part of that.
Convinced his point is made, Neighbor Jay heads back into the house without a backward glance. His confidence and spot on assessment of the situation are inspiring.
Jason waits for him to enter the house and then quickly climbs into the backseat and buckles himself in, quietly waiting for Mamaw.
And it’s over. That fast. Mission accomplished. Neighbor Jay working miracles with one rambunctious five-year-old in short order.
I don’t believe I ever heard Jason honk a horn again until he was in his 30s. And then it was when he bought a ‘new to him’ HUGE Cadillac that had this blaring horn. He was pretty proud of both. And of course, he had a specific set of skills uniquely trained on the car horn.
But on this day in 1988, Mamaw is grateful to Neighbor Jay. As his parents, when we hear the story, we are grateful. Every neighbor within the sound of that horn is rooting for Neighbor Jay and is grateful. Well done Neighbor Jay! Our entire 30th Street family silently and deeply sings praises to Neighbor Jay.
Coming soon: Great Neighbors (Them, not us) Part 2
