Lots of people come and go from your life. On my rural county road, I enjoyed a lifetime of quiet security where I knew everyone in my neighorhood. My family has been in the same spot since the mid 19th century and most of my neighbors are generational residents as well. Many are people my dad grew up with and that my mother has known since they were married in 1972.
The face of the neighborhood has changed as people have aged, as some have died, and a few have just moved away. Last year, we lost one of those neighbors in a terrible blow to our little community. David and his wife Teresa have known my parents since they were young. Dad grew up with them. I remember spending time at their house when I was little. Toward the end of David’s life, they spent a lot of time with my folks, trying to slow the clock and enjoy each other’s company.
He was a good guy, a kind man, and the sort of neighbor everyone should have.
The other day, I located something I’ve been searching for since before David died. It’s a wooden giraffe, a pull-toy that he made for me when I was little. I suspect he made a lot of toys for the children in his life but I feel lucky that he thought to give me one.
It’s not just a toy. It’s so much more than that. For one, people don’t make things like they used to. Having something that was created by a person who enjoyed working with his hands is important. Kids need things that weren’t made in factories and people need to do more things that are productive.
More importantly, it’s a keepsake from a dear neighbor and family friend who thought enough of his little neighbor with blonde hair in pigtails to give her something special.
Since I finally found it, the little giraffe won’t be going back in the box. He’ll have a place of honor in my home as a reminder of the difference that people can make in the lives of others and, more importantly, how a person’s existence can cause ripples in life’s pond long after they’re gone.
Here we are, a very long time ago. I was not yet two. I don’t remember the day but I do remember the dress.
I’m guessing David would be surprised to know I kept his giraffe and that it matters so much to me. But isn’t that how life goes? As we travel through life, we tend to think about how we are impacted by the world but forget that we are impacting the world too. A gift, a smile, a neighborly wave – these things matter and all culminate into the immeasurable presence we leave behind.
Saturday’s adventures took me to a place that has been on my to do list for most of my adult life. Seems like I read an article about it in Victoria Magazine when I was a teenager but somehow never found my way there. It’s called Hartman Rock Garden and, while small, it’s one of the most extraordinary folk art sites you’ll find in Ohio.
It all began when Springfield resident Harry George “Ben” Hartman was laid off from his job in 1932. He was a molder at the Springfield Machine Tool Company foundry. The Great Depression was tightening its grip on the country, work was hard to find, and he was not impressed with all his newfound free time. So what’s a guy to do? He set to work building a cement fishing pond in his back yard. He enjoyed that so much he began building all sorts of miniature buildings and characters throughout his back yard.
He left words of encouragement in the stone including the phrases “let us smile” and “seek the good life” for visitors to enjoy these many years later.
Hartman created a truly unique stone garden using hundreds of thousands of stones before his death in 1944. His wife Mary took on the role of maintaining his work, planting flowers and keeping it open to visitors until her death in 1997. While we call it a rock garden, Mary referred to it as a “garden of love.”
After her passing, the garden fell into a state of disrepair and was facing a bulldozer. That’s when the Kohler Foundation stepped in to buy the property and restore the garden. The Kohler company is know for faucets but the foundation is known for preserving bits of Americana across the country. Today, the garden is run by a local nonprofit organization and a small army of volunteers who are keeping it going.
This is a great little side trip if you’re in the Springfield area. Just remember that this is folk art and it is quite old so don’t go looking for perfection. While there were a few of us oohing and aahing over things, there was some guy complaining that he expected to to be nicer. Don’t be that guy, please.
Get the address and other details over at their