HOW IT USED TO BE

I’ve been thinking about the neighbors I’ve had through the years. Most have been good, some nosy, a few I could have done without, but one neighbor gave the neighborhood kids great fun.

His name was Teder, probably short for Theodore but I really don’t know. He seemed really old to me as a child but I think he was actually in his 50’s.

Teder lived less than a mile from my house. He was our summertime neighbor or at least he did not visit us any other time of the year. He was a single man but his sister and her family lived on our street, so he had relatives close by.

I don’t know how old I was when my father took our family to visit him. It was the only time I saw where his place was. He lived down a dirt road that had lots of ruts in it. At the end of the road there was a barn and a very small building that he lived in. He shared his humble abode with his critters. His chickens were in the house the day we visited. My dad said that Teder had no problem letting all of his animals in if they wanted. We didn’t go inside ourselves but think it would have been quite an experience.

Teder called my mother, ‘Mammy.” She was probably 20 years younger than him but I think it was his way of being respectful. We thought he was loony when he’d call her that. He would stop to visit with my folks on his way past our house. He would always have the same clothes on but I don’t remember them looking dirty or smelling. He would always stay outside, either sitting on the porch steps or a lawn chair. He’d wear a big wool jacket no matter what the temperature. If it was 85 degrees or 65, the wool jacket was a part of his attire.

I don’t know where or if he worked. I know he had a little farm and I guess he grew his own food. He didn’t eat much by the look of him.

The neighborhood children were particularly fond of this eccentric old man because of his mode of transportation. Even though it was the 1950’s Teder drove a wagon pulled by a horse whereever he went. When we saw him coming down the hill toward out house we’d run to our mother. We needed her permission to ride with him and we couldn’t waste time getting it so we’d yell as we ran. She always gave it but we knew never to assume. Once we were allowed to go we’d run to where Teder was. If he was halfway down the hill we would run halfway up. It meant a longer ride on the wagon.

The amazing thing was that what was happening at our house was happening all up and down the street. Kids were getting permission to ride with Teder on his wagon.

Teder was not a talkative fellow. I remember many, many rides on the wagon but I don’t remember him ever talking to us. We would ask him if we could get on and he would nod, pull his horse to a stop and we would hop on.  He often went to see his sister who didn’t live that far up the street from us so the ride was only about a quarter of a mile long. There were times though that he would go into town. On those days we were allowed to ride further, not much further but we relished every inch. We never minded the walk back home.

Riding on the back of that wagon I could imagine what it was like to be a pioneer, watching the road pass beneath my feet as we slowly made our way into the west. Never mind the road was paved with asphalt and I was actually going north. Never mind that I rode in cars, talked on telephones, and watched Hopalong Cassidy and The Lone Ranger on television. When I was on the back of that old wagon being pulled by one old horse I felt like a pioneer. It was an experience I’ll always be grateful for.

One day Teder was found dead deep in the forest behind his house. People speculated that he knew it was his time and wanted to die like he lived. Alone. Or maybe he really was just out for a walk. However it ocurred when Teder passed away he took with him one of the last reminders of what life was like for his generation.