A One-of-a-Kind Neighbor

     If you mention the name Lawrence to anyone who has lived on our road for a few decades, they'll smile and say, "I miss him." Newer residents have likely heard the name and a story or two. There are lots and lots of Lawrence stories.
Slow Down!
     You know how sometimes you think you're too busy to make certain stops, especially to see people who you know like to visit, or whose life seems so much "slower" than yours? Often younger people feel that about older people. Well, I soon learned (and had to repeatedly, I'm embarrassed to admit) that stopping by Lawrence's was a good thing, especially when I felt most rushed. Invariably, when I left his house, my head had been adjusted and my breathing and pace slowed. It didn't take all that long, really, even if it took longer than I thought I had to spare.
Who Was That ?!
     We first met Lawrence while digging a ditch to install drain tiles where our driveway meets the county road, shortly after we moved onto our property. We'd noticed a Santa-shaped man in overalls and tennis shoes ambling up the road toward us. When he got to our spot, he stopped and said, "Hello." Actually, it was more like "Hu-oh." His speech was indistinct and you might think he was either tipsy or mentally challenged. He had a droopy hang-dog face, with sad-looking eyes. His overalls were grey & white striped, worn with a white short-sleeved shirt and black high-top tennis shoes. It was his uniform.

      I don't remember much of that first conversation other than it was curious and a little uncomfortable because of Lawrence's speech and because we had no idea who he was. He seemed like an OK guy but you never know. When he finally ambled on down the road, my husband and I looked at each other with a quizzical who-was-that look.
     That evening, our next door neighbor called to say she'd heard we'd met Lawrence. He was, it turned out, walking to their house, all told over half a mile from his house, which he probably normally shortened by walking through what was now our property." Don't worry about Lawrence, he's perfectly harmless," she assured me, and proceeded to tell me where he lived and how all the neighbors knew and liked him.
Seemingly Simple
     Lawrence may have been "simple"and uneducated but he was very resourceful and self-sufficient. He had no car so he walked to work at a sawmill near Philomath, 7 miles or more. Sometimes he would get rides, but if he didn't he'd walk rather than miss work.
     Lawrence raised a few sheep and sold the wool

Lawrence and his sheep barn across the road

and he had a flock of chickens ("shickens" in his unique language). He was retired by the time we met him. A neighbor would take him into town every couple of weeks for groceries and supplies at the feed store or elsewhere. He loved to go out to lunch those days too, at the CD&J Cafe in Philomath. At the end of the year he'd collect calendars from all those businesses. His favorite was the kind with pockets where you could keep receipts, but he loved the pictures on all of them. Mostly illiterate, he did know how to use a calendar, but he kept important dates and facts in his head.
     Anyone who stopped for eggs entered his big back porch/pantry which was also his mud-room and laundry room. Then the kitchen, which always smelled of whatever meat he'd cooked for the most recent meal, usually bacon or hamburger. A red and white oilcloth covered the kitchen table, beside a big window where he could see the "shicken" yard. The parakeets in the cage above the table provided their own unique chatter and music. In the living room was a big fish tank, a little t.v. and a big picture window looking across the road to his apple orchard and classic, weathered sheep barn. Favorite pictures from calendars and magazines were the art on every wall. He had a big picture of the covered bridge at Chitwood, near where he was raised.
     Children loved to visit Lawrence. To them he was their year-round Santa Claus. He always had a treat on hand just for them - hard candy, Tootsie Rolls or, in summer, popsicles. He especially loved Halloween when they'd come by in costume, trick-or-treating. He was ready for them and they knew it!
      Every Christmas he strung lights on an evergreen in his yard near enough the light pole that he could use an extension cord.

Lawrence stands proudly in front of his Christmas tree

Though likely a fire hazard, the tree was his present to the neighbors. It really was a cheerful sight on a dark winter night or early morning, as were his colored lights in the window. When he was pleased about something he'd grasp his hands together and pull them over one shoulder. A compliment about his tree always brought that sweet physical response. I kidded him that if he started much earlier (he usually started just after Halloween), he'd have it up for Labor Day.
      Lawrence loved getting Christmas cards as much as he enjoyed collecting calendars. It seemed silly to mail him one when I saw him several times a week, but he loved getting them in the mail, so that's how I'd send it to him. Neighbors would always have to tell him who they were from when he first received them, but he'd remember who each one was from after that and would proudly show his stack of cards to everyone who dropped by.

The tree a few years earlier with no snow

Famous in Town
     Though he didn't drive, it was usually Lawrence who would call the county when our dirt road turned into a pot-holed washboard in winter or spring from accumulated rains. The rest of us just groused about it but he did something about it. I can only imagine the person at the county road maintenance department picking up the phone and hearing his gruff, bellowing voice. After the first call or two they surely knew without having to decipher his speech that they'd better get some equipment to our road a.s.a.p. And they did!
Thinking Out Loud
      Lawrence talked to himself all the time. I remember once sitting on his stoop for a good 10 minutes because he was in deep conversation when I stopped by for eggs. I assumed he was on the telephone and I didn't want to interrupt. After a while, it dawned on me that he was probably talking to himself so I knocked on the door. Sure enough...
     A neighbor and her husband had rented a cabin up in the woods above us. When our elderly next-door neighbor moved away, they bought his house down by the road. When Lawrence heard someone had moved into the house he put on fresh overalls and shirt and walked over to meet the new neighbors. When she opened the door and he saw it was someone he already knew he looked disappointed and said, "It yoo-ou?!" We still laugh about it and inject that phrase whenever it's appropriate.
     Another set of neighbors almost lost Lawrence's 20-year friendship when their dog got out one day when Lawrence was at the telephone cooperative meeting, which always included a dinner and pie and cake contests. The dog killed a dozen of Lawrence's chickens. The neighbors who owned the dog discovered the carnage before Lawrence got home and buried the birds, then waited for Lawrence to return so they could explain what had happened. They tried to find replacement chicks, but it wasn't the right time of year. Lawrence thought he wasn't going to be reimbursed for his chickens so called the dog catcher. Lawrence was given money for the loss of chickens and egg-income, but the dog ended up with a criminal record.

The Last Dozen of Eggs
     One day a few years later, coming home from a walk in a nearby wood with a neighbor, I stopped at Lawrence's  for eggs. The house was unusually quiet and I called his name as I came through the door. No response. I saw him lying on the couch and was concerned that he didn't hear me and respond as he normally would. I shouted, then touched him. He was cold. I bolted out the door to a neighbor who was a nurse. It was early enough that she hadn't left for work yet. She had the presence of mind to call the sheriff and went back with me to confirm my worst fears. It was a blow to the neighborhood, totally unexpected but, in retrospect, a good thing for Lawrence. It appeared he had just laid down for a rest. Later another neighbor discovered wet laundry in the washing machine. He must have laid down while waiting for the cycle to finish. Of course; it was Monday and he was a creature of habit. He was 80 years old.
     The women of the neighborhood gathered at Lawrence's house the next evening to box up his belongings. The house had been willed to the neighbors who had taken care of his taxes and legal business over the years. The gathering was like a wake - sad, fun and cathartic with, of course, lots of Lawrence stories.
     We all gathered at the gravesite for his burial a few days later, sad to say goodbye to one of our favorite, most colorful neighbors. It was the first time I've ever asked to be a pall-bearer at a friend's funeral. Somehow, it seemed to be the right thing - and something I really wanted to do.
     Lawrence would be pleased to know he is so fondly remembered by his non-blood "family," neighbors and friends all these years later. He'd be clasping his hands and pulling them over his shoulder, a big smile growing across his hang-dog face.

At the coast with neighbors shortly before he died

A Few "Lawrence-isms" :
 "overhauls" for overalls
"leaf program" for relief, or public assistance, such as food stamps
"trouble-ouble-ouble" - it was always a multi-sylable word for him 
"canney" for candy

When we cleaned out Lawrence's house, we found this photo of his parents, which I love. Lawrence looked so much like his mother and it appears he had some of her personality. The photo always makes me smile and wish I had been able to meet his parents too.