Road Tips

The Death of Jane

Cindy picked up yesterday's Quad City Times and was perusing the stories when she suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, God.  Jane died."  Yes, our eccentric, religious and half-crazy former neighbor who used to drive us completely nuts and who was somewhat of a nut herself died at the nursing home she'd been living in since moving there about two and a half years ago.  She was 89.  You can read her obituary here.

Cindy was amazed at the amount of grandchildren, great-grandchildren and even great-great grandchildren Jane had.  "And I only saw one grandchild ever come to see her," Cindy said.   Cindy often felt sorry for Jane, even though Jane used to drive Cindy nuts by pulling plants out of our garden that she thought were weeds, or broke off the branches of bushes on our berm because she thought they were weeds. 

Jane was a highly religious person and if there is a Heaven she's probably there.  She was an "Old Testament, Fire and Brimstone" kind of person and she used to pontificate on her religious beliefs so much that it got sort of scary at times.  She didn't trust any Catholics, even though there's tons of Catholic families up and down our street.  Jane did tell us one time, "There's some good Catholics around here.  But once the Catholic Church takes over the government, they're going to kill all the heretics.  And I'll be first because I'm the biggest heretic there is."

Jane had some pretty peculiar ideas on life, in general.  We knew she meant well, but her mind was cloudy and her reasoning wasn't always plain.  Given that we shared a backyard, we pretty much had to put up with her and her incoherent ramblings on a daily basis.  But she really had no business living by herself.  And her family finally realized that three years ago and got her to a nursing home.  It was like a relief for us because we knew A) it was the best thing for her; and B) she wouldn't be bothering us when we were trying to have a relaxing evening on the deck. 

Jane was a child of the Depression and was a very frugal person.  I once heard that her family did have money from farming in SE Iowa.  But Jane always denied that she or her family had any money.  She told me once, "The church is trying to get more money out of me.  I don't know why they think I have money.  My father was a farmer in the Depression.  We lost everything and never got it back."

Of course, she never explained that her father was a successful farmer after the Depression as I was told by her son, one time. 

I've told many stories in Road Tips about Jane and some of the stunts she used to pull.  You can read them all in the Tales of Jane category.  By the way, that category continues to be one of the most popular on the Road Tips site, even though I haven't written about Jane for quite some time.  

The people in our neighborhood who used to have to deal with Jane all used to say that she'd probably outlive us all.  She damned near did with some of the neighbors dying earlier this year.  Like I always said about Jane, she used to drive me crazy, but she was good entertainment. 

 

The New Neighbors

We sort of have mixed feelings around here as July 1 rolled around.  Our neighbors, Eric and Molly, bought a house over in Moline and moved there late last week.  We'd grown to be pretty good friends with them.  And we'd sort of become attached to their little Shi Tzu dog, Ralph (right).  Ralph was my little buddy, I think much to the concern of Molly, who thought Ralph minded me better than he did them. 

Eric is a sports reporter for the Quad City Times and Molly is a pharmaceutical rep in Eastern Iowa.  They were renting from Julio and Kim, the people who bought Jane's house over a year ago and fixed it up.  They both liked the neighborhood and, I presume, the neighbors.  But they found a great house over in Moline that had a big back yard for Ralph to run around in, and the guy who sold the house did a bunch of modern improvements in recent months. 

But we will miss 'em, even though they're probably a ten minute drive from our house.

In the meantime, Julio and Kim sold the house to a young couple and today is the closing day.   I happened to meet the new neighbors, George and Hanna, this morning.  A nice younger couple with no kids and - so far - no dogs.  We introduced ourselves and made small talk as they were waiting for Kim to come by for the walk through before the actual closing later this morning. 

They're going to be moving in the bulk of their stuff this coming Wednesday.  From first impressions, they're going to be good neighbors.  They like the neighborhood (it IS a great neighborhood), and we're happy they're a younger couple.

Speaking of changing neighbors, Harry and Eldora on the other side of us moved to an assisted living home in May (Harry is 86 and Eldora is 85).  A brother and two sisters bought the house for their 82-year-old mother to live in. 

She'd been living on the West end of Davenport for a number of years while her two daughters lived over here on the East end.  They wanted her to be closer to them.  And since it's a lot easier for one old lady to move than two full families, they bought the house and are in the midst of "modernizing" the place.  Harry and Eldora built the house in 1955 and I don't think they did ANYTHING to the place since then.  It's well built, but really needed some serious updating. 

Still, we've met the lady - Maxine - and she may be walking slow and need help getting out of cars, but her mind is as sharp as a tack.  She's a very nice lady and we'll be glad when she moves in sometime in August.   

Lots of changes on either side of us.  At one point this spring we had "For Sale" signs in the front yard of both houses.  One day the FedEx guy was delivering something to me and he looked at both "For Sale" signs and said, "Your neighbors must not like you."  That's funny, because Cindy's son said something similar.  We were pretty apprehensive to see who would be moving in, but now that I've met Maxine, and now George and Hanna, I think we'll be fine.   

The New Neighbors

My cousin, Sarah Wehrle Burke, said to me one time, "Now, Will - you pick your friends, but God picks your neighbors."  Since then I've been praying for a 25-year-old blond to move in next door.

My prayers were answered this weekend.  We now have a 25-year-old blond who moved in.  But she's married to an athletic looking 27-year old guy. 

Julio and Kim rented Jane's old house out to a young couple - Eric and Molly Page.  He's the new sports writer for the Quad City Times and she's a pharmaceutical representative for Merck.  They just moved in to the house this weekend coming from Eau Claire, WI. 

This morning, Cindy and I took over a pan of beef enchiladas that I'd made up.  However, they weren't there.  But Eric's mother was there doing some kitchen work for them and we talked to her for a little bit.  They were in the process of moving Eric's clothes and furniture from his apartment in downtown Davenport to the house. 

This afternoon while I was watching football and Cindy was out with her sister, the couple came over and introduced themselves.  A very nice young couple.  She seemed a little more outgoing than he, but both were thrilled to be living in the neighborhood. 

We talked a little bit about the people in the neighborhood and Molly said, "Well, it doesn't sound like there's any troublemakers in the immediate neighborhood."

I said, "Well, actually, the lady who lived in the house before you guys was sort of the troublemaker.  Actually, she was more weird than a troublemaker." 

I gave them the quick run-down on Jane and they were pretty incredulous.  I said, "Well, ask any of the other neighbors.  They all have stories about Jane." 

Molly asked, "She wasn't the kind that would lock kids in the basement, is she?"

I said, "I don't think so, although I used to joke that she used to keep her husband's body down there." 

They told me about a door in the basement that had a chain lock on the outside of the door.  Molly said, "Gosh, Eric, maybe we'd better go look in there and make sure she doesn't have someone in there.  It does kind of smell in the basement." 

I told them a couple three Jane stories and they were just amazed.  I said, "I'm glad Cindy's not here or she'd tell me to stop it.  But as I've said many times before, Jane was good entertainment." 

Molly said, "Well, we can be weird sometimes, I'm sure, but we don't want to be THAT weird." 

I promised to have them over for dinner once our kitchen situation got settled (we're in the midst of a kitchen make-over) and they said they were looking forward to it. 

It will be nice to have a younger couple in the neighborhood, that's for sure. 

For Sale by Owner - Redux

Almost as soon as I posted the "For Sale by Owner" blog entry yesterday, there's evidentially been a change of plans.  Julio and Kim must have realized that selling the house by themselves was going to be a little too much. 

Sitting in front of the house is a ReMax realty sign.  Although the house isn't listed on the realtor's site yet, I'm sure it will be shortly. 

For Sale By Owner

As I said in an earlier post, our old next door neighbor, Jane, is now in an assisted living home.  Her son sold her house to a guy who fixed up the house and is now trying to sell it.  On his own.  During a time when it's a down market for housing sales. 

It's been a no-win combination so far.

I feel bad for the guy, Julio.  He's a genuinely nice guy.  He and his wife, Kim, spent a lot of time and money on getting the house into selling shape.  They've had it on the market for about six weeks now, they've had a couple of open houses with about 30 to 35 couples looking at the property.  But no bites.  One of the reasons may be that they're asking too much for it. 

They want $149,900, which, I believe, is too high.  And obviously, so do a lot of other people.  Julio told me as much just the other day.  It's a nice house in a nice neighborhood, but if they're asking just under $150K, then our house should go for $160K.  Minimum. 

We paid nowhere close to that 4 years ago and I don't think property values in this neighborhood have skyrocketed that much since. 

We have a larger floor plan (I thought our house was smaller, but it's actually larger by about 80 square feet); we have half a finished basement (the basement is not finished over there); we have a nice landscaped yard (they advertise that their yard is landscaped, but all they did was throw some bricks down, plant some hostas - which are dying - and throw some mulch over the top); and our grass is green and weedless (their grass is green, but full of ground ivy, or Creeping Charlie.  By the way, you can eat Creeping Charlie - Jane told me so.)

Actually, what I was hoping was that Julio and Kim would move in next door.  They've talked about doing just that.  In the short time that we've got to know them I think they'd be great neighbors.  They currently live up in Eldridge and both work at the Quad City International Airport (he's a fireman and she works in administration).  Kim works weird hours - she goes in at 3 a.m.  Julio works for 24 hours, then is off for 48 hours. 

Kim said that there are two reasons why they probably wouldn't move in - 1) She is afraid to walk from the house to an unattached garage at 3 a.m.; and 2) They have a daughter who is a junior at North Scott High School and she doesn't want to leave there for a Davenport school.

Julio told me the other day that he's seriously thinking about renting the house out to the state to be used as a home for handicapped people.  He said that a handicapped person (or persons) can live in the house with a foster parent and the state pays him for the people to live there.  "Two mortgages sucks," Julio told me.

Well, we don't know what the term "handicapped" would entail.   And that has Cindy kind of worried.  She's now hoping the house gets sold - and quick.

But I don't think it's going to happen.

Here's the link for the house listing.  I've been trying to get some of my friends from Newton who have lost their jobs or who are losing their jobs at Maytag to move to the Quad Cities and next door to us.  John Deere, Alcoa and the Rock Island Arsenal are hiring right and left.  It's a nice house and I'll bet that if you told Julio that you'd take it for $135,000, he'd probably say, "Sure!"

But I don't think that will happen, either - just not right away...

The Garden Update

Even without the needed rainfall (we're about 3 inches under normal for the month of June), our garden is growing pretty well this year.  Our yard is looking pretty good, but we really need a good soaking rain. 

Oh, there was a lot of rain in the area the past few days.  But just like during last year's drought, we'd see storms line up west of the Quad Cities, then peter out just outside of the city limits. 

And just like last year, it seems that a number of rain-dumping storms are forming just east of the Quad's and drenching areas to the south and east of here.  I don't know if we have a big dry dome over the Quad Cities or what.  But we need rain.

Nonetheless, with a little watering here and there, and the fact we haven't had as many really hot days as last year, things are looking pretty good around here. 

Including our tomatoes.  Look at these monsters!  These are the biggest tomato plants that we've ever had this early.  These two big bastards are going to be giving us Better Boy tomatoes by the 4th of July - about three weeks earlier than we've ever had tomatoes from the garden.  By the way, I measured them this morning - they're 4'10" tall. 

And even our cherry tomato plant is huge.  We're going to have a bumper crop of tomatoes this year, much to the delight of our neighbors, no doubt. 

(Actually, part of the secret is that we got our tomato plants from the Corn Crib in Coal Valley, IL this year.  They had been started in their green house and they had a good head start than some of the other seedling tomato plants others were selling.) 

Last year, we had five tomato plants - three in a small garden we planted on the border of the yard with Jane's yard.  Except those didn't grow very well.  Actually, we thought they'd grow pretty well there, because they were planted in what was a former "catch all" pile of crap (weeds, leaves, whatever) that Jane would pick up around the neighborhood (she moved that pile to the back of her garage - another Jane story for another day). 

When the tomatoes finally ripened, they had a black canker fungus on the bottom of them.  A little detective work found that the canker fungus was because of too much water.  Well, I couldn't figure out why that would be - I was watering them about once every three days. 

Then one morning I found out why - I looked out and Jane was watering the tomato plants a day after I had given them a big dousing of water.  For someone who bitched that I used too much water, she would come over with her water hose and water the living piss out of the tomatoes. 

I went out and told her to quit water the tomatoes, that she didn't have to do that.  But she never listened.  I'd see her over there watering again.  And again, I went out and told her that the tomatoes didn't need watering.  She said, "Well, sure they do!  Look how spindly they are!"

I said, "Well, they're that way from too much water!  For someone who complains that I use so much water, you sure do like to come over here and water.  Just stop it!" 

Then I noticed later that the posts holding up the wire fence would be bent over.  Not only the ones for the garden next to Jane's yard, but the one behind our garage - a good 60 feet from Jane's yard.  One morning, Cindy looked out the window and and she saw Jane bending the posts back after I'd straightened them out.  I went outside and said, "Jane, what are you doing?  Don't bend the fence posts!" 

She said, "They need to be bent!"

"Why!"

"They just need to be," she retorted.

After arguing with her for a bit, I told her to just leave things alone and she walked away.  Sure as shit, the next day, Cindy looked out the window and there was Jane, bending the posts on the fence.  I yelled out the window, "Jane!  Please stop that!  I asked you nice before, now just stop it!"

She turned around and said, "You stop it!  You're just picking on me!  Are you going to call the police on me?"

Now, that was about the fifth time she asked me if I was going to call the cops on her in the three years that we'd lived next to her.  I don't know where she got the idea I would call the cops (Cindy did call the fire department that one time she was burning garbage in her back yard), but I'm guessing that she'd probably had the cops called on her quite a bit over the years. 

Actually, I never had to call the cops on Jane - I'd just call her son and like magic, she'd stop whatever she was doing. 

I can't tell you how nice it is to be out watering early in the morning, lost in my thoughts, planning my day, and not having to worry about Jane sneaking up behind me, scaring the living shit out of me, and then saying things like, "I don't know why you're watering, there's a famine coming and all this will be gone." 

She was nuts.

But, as a nice ending to this story, here is a picture of Cindy's window box and some flowers on the east side of our house.  Yes, everything is looking pretty good this summer.

Selling Jane's House

I saw Jane's son out back a couple three weeks ago. I asked him how the work on his mom's house was coming along and he said, "Slow.  My nephew, who's been doing most of the work, just bought a house and he's been working on that place.  So, he hasn't had any time to get over here to get things done.  And I'm not too handy.  I can tear things out, but I can't do much to fix them up." 

As much crap they've tossed out and all the work they've done on that house over the past three months, you'd figure that it would be ready to go on the market.  But, no.  It's still far from that.

The bathroom and kitchen are completely gutted.  The hardwood floors have holes in them where boards rotted under that crappy old carpet Jane had.  The painter finally finished the inside and outside of the house.  (I'd never seen a guy who was on the cell phone more than this guy was - it was weird seeing him hang from a ladder, painting with one hand and holding a cell phone to his ear with the other.)

A couple Sundays ago, I'd heard a chain saw going outside in the neighborhood and didn't think much of it.  My buddy, Jim Kellogg, stopped in on his way back home to Illinois and we took off and went to one of the local meat markets for some steaks.  When we got back, I noticed that all the bushes in front of Jane's house had been cut down. 

Jim and I were enjoying a beer and walking around the house looking at some plants and stuff.  Cindy joined us and I said, "Hey, Cindy.  Take a look what they've done to the bushes in front of Jane's house."

We had similar bushes in front of our house and Cindy had her dad and I take them out about three years ago.  So, she was happy those bushes were gone in front of Jane's.  As we were standing there admiring the work, a guy and a young boy came from around the house.  Cindy remarked that she thought she'd heard a chain saw earlier in the morning and now realized what it was. 

The guy came over and introduced himself as Julio, the new owner of the house.  He introduced the young boy as Sergio, his grandson.  Julio was a very nice man, although I'm not certain what he thought of us as Kellogg and I were standing there with bottles of beer in our hands at 11:30 on a Sunday morning. 

I asked Julio when he was going to move in.  He said, "Oh, we're not moving in.  Jim (Jane's son) couldn't finish the work that had to be done to the house, so I bought it from him.  We're going to finish the work, then sell the house after it's renovated." 

In the meantime, Julio has been over nearly every day doing something.  He fixed the hardwood floors in the living room, he's in the process of renovating the kitchen, and then the bathroom. 

To Cindy's delight, he cut down the massive jungle of weeds, bushes and other crap in Jane's backyard.  We've met his wife and I have to say that they are very nice people.  I sort of wish they were moving in next door. 

But I'm sure with the renovations he's doing, the house will be priced accordingly to the others in the neighborhood.  I'm still holding out hope for a 25 year old blond to move in when Julio sells it...

Jane and the Other Neighbors

As I said a few days ago, they've taken so much stuff out of Jane's house over the past month that it filled up an industrial sized dumpster.  Plus, they put a bunch of stuff out on the curb for the city to come by three times now and pick it up.  And just the other day, a Salvation Army truck came by and hauled off whatever remaining "good" furniture that was left after they threw the old junky furniture out on the curb. 

And, actually, this morning we watched as they took an old freezer, a hide-a-bed couch and some more stuff out to the curb for the city to pick up on Monday.  Where did she store all this stuff?  It's not that big of a house!

Last weekend, I was doing some yard work and I looked over and noticed that a little tree from inside Jane's house that they'd sat outside had fallen over.  I went over to put it upright and I noticed the neighbor on the other side of Jane's house, Greg, was out in his yard.  We've lived here 3 1/2 years and we'd never met (which I feel bad about).  But Cindy had met his wife, Lucy, before and she told Cindy that their problems with Jane were almost as bad as what we were experiencing. 

I went over and introduced myself to Greg and we got to talking about the stuff they were pulling out of Jane's house and throwing away.  I said, "I just couldn't believe the amount of carpeting they took out of that place.  Jane's house is a little larger than ours, but the amount of carpet they threw out was enough to fill a 5,000 square foot home."

Greg said, "Well, a lot of that carpeting was ours."

He told me that about 5 years ago they had pulled up all this ugly green carpeting from the floors of their house and set it out on the curb on a Sunday for the city to pick up the next day.  Greg said that he got up on Monday morning to go to work and it was all gone.  "I just figured that someone had come by in the night and picked it up in a truck because there was a lot there." 

He said that he looked out after Jane's family put the first batch of old carpeting out for the city to pick up and there was all his old carpeting from five years prior. 

Greg said, "I'm telling you, it was all that Lucy and I could do to get some of that carpeting out to the curb, it was so heavy.  Jane had to pull all the stuff into her house by herself.  She's in great shape physically, but she's definitely not there mentally." 

One of the reasons that Greg and I haven't met is because he's gone all week.  He leaves on Monday mornings and goes to Cedar Rapids and works at Aegon Insurance Corporation thru the week, staying in a small apartment up there, then coming home on Friday.  He told me that one Monday morning he got up around 4 a.m. to start getting ready and he looked outside and over into Jane's yard and there was Jane, just standing there staring over at the neighbor's house across the street.  He said, "I don't think she moved for more than five minutes.  It was spooky."

Greg and Lucy have two boys who are good kids.  Jane was accusing the oldest boy of breaking into her house and stealing things.  Of course, that wasn't happening.  She also was accusing the boys of coming over into her garden and stealing tomatoes.  Well, she didn't have any tomatoes to steal.  I told Jane's son one time that his mom was accusing the kids of stealing from her and he said, "Oh, she misplaces things and immediately thinks that someone has stolen from her."

Greg also said that it was great that Jane would come over and pick up twigs or leaves from his yard, but he said it was getting to a point that he didn't even want to be outside when he would see her out in her yard.  "She would always come over and start talking about this wacky religious stuff that I had no interest in listening to."

I told him that many times if I was working in my yard and I'd see her out, I'd just go back into the house or go do something in the garage for a bit until she went away.  I said, "You don't know how nice it is knowing that she's not going to be coming over and scaring the living hell out of me when I'm working in the yard early in the morning."   

Greg said that even though he feels bad that they had to put her into a home, he's glad they did.  Not only because Jane should have been in a home a long time ago, but because she isn't around to hassle him any longer.  He said, jokingly, "I will miss her little notes that she used to leave on our doorstep or on our windshields that always contained a little too much information than we wanted to know." 

Cindy and I are glad because she's not coming over here and pulling plants out of the ground, or breaking off ends of bushes thinking that they're weeds.  But I do agree with Greg - I do miss her coming over and picking up the twigs and leaves in our yard, because that means I have to do it now. 

Like I've said before, we know she meant well, but her reasoning and mental state had certainly failed over the past year and a half.

Jane and the Clothes

With Jane now out of the house next door, her son and other relatives have been over there throwing TONS of stuff out over the last month. They filled up an industrial dumpster to the top, and also threw away a ton of junk (carpeting, old chairs, couch, mattresses, old refrigerator, etc.) that the city picked up.  I can almost imagine what they found because Jane was such a pack-rat that during her walks she'd pick up stuff that other people had put out for trash pick up on their curbs, and bring it home. 

I noticed one time that she came over and took a couple of our gallon milk cartons from our recycle bin.  I didn't exactly know what she was going to do with them (actually, I didn't want to know), but she took 'em.  When they were cleaning out her house, they found dozens of empty gallon milk containers in her attic.  I'm guessing that she really believed the famine was coming and she was going to store up on water or something. 

Seeing how much stuff they threw out that Jane accumulated over the years reminded of one story I haven't told that happened not too long after we moved into our house about 3 1/2 years ago. 

I was mowing the lawn one day and I looked over and Jane had some clothes hanging from a clothes line she had strung between her house and her large maple tree in her back yard.  There were various things hanging from it, including a HUGE pair of old jeans, probably a 60 waist.  I thought they might belong to one of her sons - I hadn't met any of her kids yet, even though she talked about them like they were around all the time.  I figured she had washed them for one of her sons and was hanging them out to dry.

The next day, I'm sitting in the office and there's a knock on the back door.  Jane had this bag full of clothes and she said, "Now, I was out in the neighborhood the other day and I found this bag of clothes.  It must have been a large person who owned them, but they didn't want them.  Now, you're a big man and I thought you might like to have your pick before I put them out." 

I said, "No, Jane.  I don't need any more clothes." 

She said, "OK, suit yourself."  And she walked away with the bag of clothes.

Later in the day, I went to the front door to pick up the mail and I looked out.  In front of Jane's house, by her driveway, was this crudely written sign sitting on top of a bucket with all the clothes she had laid out on the ground.  The sign read, "Take what you need, leave the rest." 

What Jane had done, we figured, she picked up a sack of clothes someone had set out for the Salvation Army to pick up and she took 'em.  She had them laid out and it just looked junky.  In fact, the people next to her on her other side were trying to sell their house, and later that afternoon I saw the woman over there furiously picking up the clothes and taking the sign down.  She didn't want prospective buyers to know they could be buying a house next to a weird lady.

I remember she did the same thing with a set of encyclopedias that she bought at a yard sale for a $1.00.  She came over and wanted to know if we wanted them.  I'm a sucker for old books, but these were tattered and worn, pages torn out and written on with crayons.  I said, "No thanks, Jane." 

The next day, she had them out in front of her house on the ground with the sign "Take what you need, leave the rest" next to it.  I think her son actually picked them up and threw them away that time.   

Actually, had we known about Jane before we moved in, we still would have bought the house.  We felt we were very lucky to find the place we live in, and other than Jane being a crazy nuisance from time to time, we really like the neighborhood. 

Good Bye to Jane

It snowed on Sunday morning here, about 3 inches of heavy wet snow.  I thought I'd better get out there and start shoveling or Jane would be out in front of our house shoveling our walk before I knew it. 

I went outside, started up the snow blower and made a pass down the driveway toward the street.  I was surprised to see that not only was my walk not half-assed shoveled, but Jane was nowhere in sight.  So I blew the walk in front of our house and continued over to Jane's house and did her front walk, the walk up to her house and blew a path from her side backdoor out to the front sidewalk. 

She usually comes out when I snow blow our walks.  One of the early snows we had in late November/early December I was blowing our driveway clean fairly early one morning after about a four inch snowfall.  Suddenly, I looked up and over to my right just as a bunch of snow from the blower just nailed Jane who was standing about 20 feet away shoveling our walk.  I yelled, "Jane, are you all right?" 

She was standing there looking like this 85-year-old snow beast, covered in snow, spitting snow out of her mouth, wiping it from her eyes.  God, she was lucky that it was the light fluffy snow.  I said, "Jane, just get back in the house!  You shouldn't be out here shoveling any way!" 

She gave me that look of "Well, fine!" and walked away.

But this day, she didn't come out.   

I noticed later in the day that I had a couple of limbs in the yard that had been there for a couple of days.  Jane usually comes over and picks them up and takes them to her twig dump behind her garage.  They were still there. 

Come to think of it - I hadn't seen Jane since she came over mid-week last week, wandering around our front yard in sort of a daze.  She finally rang our doorbell and wanted to know if I'd seen her morning paper.  Nope, Jane, haven't seen it.  But then I pointed out a paper that seemed to be lying on the sidewalk in front of her house.  Since they deliver the paper to the front door, I'm sure that she took it outside with her, dropped it and forgot where it was.

I always wondered if we'd find her dead in the backyard or in her house.  I've never been in her house, but I can only imagine what that would be like.  Cindy's been in there and she said it smelled horrible in there.  Well, you're talking about an old lady who goes around and picks weeds, brings 'em back home, processes them and puts them in the basement for when the famine comes.  You can almost imagine the other crap she has stored in there from over the years.

I used to joke that I was sure she had her late husband in the basement just sitting there in a rocking chair.  Well, actually, knowing Jane, I was half-joking and half-serious.

So, I'm sure you're asking - what happened to Jane?  Well, first of all, she's still alive. 

This morning, I got a phone call from her son - the guy who lives a few blocks away.  He said that they had to finally put Jane in a nursing home late last week.  He said they took her to a doctor and the doctor was concerned about her living by herself.  He recommended putting her in a home because he didn't think Jane had the mental capacity to be living alone. 

Her son could have saved the time and the money seeing a doctor because we'd been thinking the same thing for about the past two years.

I asked Jane's son how she was doing, knowing how independent she was and how she would just go on these neighborhood walks at the drop of a hat.  He said that she seemed to be fine, that she was in a very nice nursing home about 30 miles away in Illinois and that everyone seemed to be very nice.  He said that she won't be able to go out and around there like she did here, and he felt a lot better about that. "I just never knew if she'd get hit by a car or fall over dead walking along," he said. 

He told me that they would be getting the house ready to sell.  I can almost imagine what it's going to take to get that place sold.  The inside hasn't been cleaned in years, I'm guessing.  Getting rid of all that crap she said she stored in the basement is another thing.  And just getting her backyard cleaned up will be a major chore in itself. 

Her son thanked me for "being a good neighbor" to his mother (if he only knew).  But honestly, for the aggravation and trouble she caused, we knew that she did a lot of the stuff she did out of the kindness in her heart. 

Deep down, Cindy and I both knew that she meant well in pulling up Cindy's plants and breaking branches on bushes thinking they were weeds.  We knew that she was doing her best in keeping landfills from filling up quickly by burning her trash in her backyard.  And we knew that she was trying to let us get to know her better when she'd leave notes on our steps telling us about her late husband's sex drive. 

Actually, Cindy was very sad after she heard the news of Jane going to the home.  She said, "Will, that's really the best thing for her, though.  She was really failing for the last few months."  But when I asked Cindy if she wanted to go to the nursing home and see Jane this Sunday, she gave me one of those, "You've GOT to be kidding" kind of looks.

Jane's son said that he was going to do his best in making sure that the people who bought the house would be good neighbors for us.  Like my cousin once told me - "You pick your friends, but God picks your neighbors." 

I'm praying for that 25-year-old blond to move in this summer.   

Oops!  I'd better watch it.  Cindy and her sister, Anita, have been making secret plans that when Jane goes, Anita is going to buy the house.  With those two living next to one another, my life would be a living hell!  ;-)   

Jane - Just Stop It!

Cindy went to Cedar Rapids today to see her mom, which left me open to do about anything I pleased.  So I lounged around in my pajamas until about 2 p.m., showered and decided to make myself a Bloody Mary. 

I'm in the kitchen fixing up a drink and I look out and Jane is in the same clothes she had on from two days ago - green dress, blue sweat pants, mis-matched socks, tennis shoes - but her hair was back to its normal gray from the flourescent blue it was from before. 

I saw her over in our yard and she was bending over and pulling up stuff out of the ground.  I thought, "Oh, Christ - she's pulling up some of Cindy's plants." 

So, I go out there, and sure enough, she's pulled up two or three plants, roots and all, from the ground.  I said, "Jane!  Just stop it!  You're pulling up our plants again!"

She looked at me and said, "Huh?"

I said, "Jane, get out of our yard.  You're pulling up plants again."

She said, "Well, where does your yard start?"

I showed her the end of the fence line along the back and she said, "Oh, I don't think that's right." 

I blew a gasket.  I said, "Jane, get out of our yard and don't come back. I'm tired of you coming over here and ruining our plants!" 

She looked rather incoherent and she started walking further into our yard to start pulling at other plants.  The plants she thought were weeds were dormant plants.  I finally said, "Jane, get the hell out of here."

She said, "Well, you know I don't like weeds." (Could have surprised me considering the amount of weeds in her yard.)

I said, "That's fine, but these aren't weeds and this isn't your yard!" 

God, I'm glad Cindy wasn't around or she would have had a shit conniption on the spot. 

I went in and called Jane's son who lives about three blocks away and told him to give me a call.  He called tonight and I told him that we were tired of Jane coming over and pulling plants that she thinks are weeds.  I told him that we were nice about it the first couple of times, then had to get a little more firm each time since then.  I told him that I had to get downright nasty with her this afternoon. 

I said, "We've spent a lot of money over the past couple three years for plants for our yard and I can't afford to have your mom coming over here and pulling them out because she thinks they're weeds."

He said, "Will, I understand what you're saying.  You have every right to be mad at her and I don't blame you.  You have a very nice yard and I'm sorry that she's doing that.  I'll talk to her and I'll be firm in telling her to stay out of your yard.  And if it gets to the point that you need to call the police, please do."

I said, "Look, I'm not going to call the cops.  I know she's trying to be helpful, but it's getting to the point that she's ruining our plants.  And I can't have that any longer.  And the thing that also concerns me is that she seemed incoherent when I'm trying to talk to her about this."

He said, "Will, say no more.  We've looked into putting her into a home, but it's a lot easier said than done.  We know that she's failing mentally and has been that way for a long time.  We're just trying to figure out our options before we have to make that final decision."

The problem is that he's not doing anything.  I think he's hoping she kicks the bucket or gets hit by a car or something.  She's gone from being good entertainment to being a menace in the neighborhood. 

Blue Haired Lady

I was getting ready this morning and I glanced out our bedroom window and there was Jane in our back yard picking up sticks.  She does this, I believe, because the twigs and small branches are from her big maple tree in her back yard that comes over into our yard. 

Anyway, I'm looking at her and I think, "What in the hell does she have on her head?'  It was some sort of blue hat with a scarf tied around it.  Then I looked closer.

It was HER HAIR!!!

Oh, my God!  I don't know what happened. I'm guessing she must have tried to color her hair and it went wrong. 

I quickly got the camera and opened up the shade and took this shot of her from the back.  She's wearing a coat, a dress, a pair of sweatpants, mis-matched socks and tennis shoes.  And that's a step up, fashion-wise, for her.

I took a couple more pictures just because I couldn't believe it.  There's a large part of me that takes pity on the woman because none of her children look after her.  Then again, she's such an independent old broad that she probably gets pissed off when they try to help her. 

We're past trying to figure her out.  But this is just unbelievable.

"There are Thieves in the Neighborhood"

That's Jane's mantra whenever I see her.  Well, that and "A famine's coming" is the other.  I finally had to bitch her out one time and tell her that there is no famine coming and I was really tired of hearing that from her.  Now, I'm sure she'll have the last laugh when the famine does get here and she's chomping down on the processed weeds she's storing in her basement while we're starving next door.

Of course, I will admit that I stole her burn can.  But only because it was smelling up the neighborhood.   But she says that the neighborhood kids steal her tomatoes.  Hell, given the crappy tomatoes she tries to grow, she probably thinks that since they don't grow, someone is stealing them!

One summer evening earlier this year, Cindy and I are sitting on the deck eating dinner and here comes Jane, skulking around the corner of the house.  (I swear she is half Indian - she's so friggin' quiet when she walks.  She's scared the living shit out of me at least five or six times in the past couple of years sneaking up on me.)   

She comes up to the deck and says, "Now, how do I go about getting a hold of the police?" 

Cindy said, "Jane, why do you need to call the police?"

She said, "There's a thief in the neighborhood and he's got a key to my house and he's coming in when I go to church and he's stealing things." 

I immediately said, "Jane, what's the name of your son who lives over this way about three blocks?"

She gave me his name and I immediately went inside the house to call him.  I get a hold of him and I tell him, "Listen, your mom is over here trying to find out how to get a hold of the police because she thinks someone has a key to her house and is coming in while she's at church taking stuff." 

He said, "Well, she misplaces things and thinks that someone has stolen them." 

I said, "Look, I can't tell you how to take care of her, but we see her nearly every day and we've noticed a rapid decrease in her lucidity and her mental stabilty (not that she was all that mentally stable to begin with) over the last few months."

He explained to me that they'd had some social workers over to evaluate her and he's afraid that he's going to have to eventually put her in a home.  He said that he knew that would probably kill her, but he doesn't know what else to do at this point.

Actually, her son is kind of a pant load.  Cindy is pissed at him because he doesn't come up on a regular basis, other than to take her to church.  He doesn't come over to help her with stuff around the house.  We both know that when Jane does go, it will take an army to clean up that house and get rid of the "old lady" smell in there.  I don't think Jane has had a window open in years.  Cindy's upset because he doesn't pay that much attention to her.

Anyway, it turns out that Jane believes the 10 year old neighbor boy on the other side of her got into her house one time, took a key, and every time she goes to church, he comes in and helps himself to what ever he wants in the house.  I know it's not true - the kid is a good little guy.  So I told Jane, "If you think that, why don't you talk to his parents?"

She said, "Ohhhhh, they don't listen.  They stick up for him." 

Cindy was talking to the 10 year old's mother, Lu, one time a few weeks ago.  They were talking about Jane and how Jane is accusing the son of getting into her house.   Cindy said, "My husband and I have had just about enough of her." 

Lu said, "My husband was past that a long time ago." 

I think a lot of people have had enough of her - including her son.

Jane and the Fire Department

As I said in an earlier post Jane had this old rusted out garbage can that she used to burn crap in.  And she was burning stuff like leaves, milk cartons, magazines, anything that she'd find on her many forays into the neighborhood.  We have a neighbor, Barb, just a sweetheart of a lady, that lives behind us.  A corner of Jane's yard kind of butts up to the back of Barb's property, too. 

Barb was having problems with a virus that was causing her to cough.  She was having to use an oxygen mask to help her breath and to help clear up the virus.  But with Jane burning, the smoke was seeping into Barb's house and she was having trouble breathing WITH the oxygen mask. 

So, one night - a Saturday night when Jane was at church - Cindy and I were in the back yard enjoying a fire in our portable fire pit and having some wine.  Around sunset, I looked over and saw that burn can in Jane's "garden" (and I use that term loosely).  I said to Cindy, "I'm gonna get the friggin' can and get rid of it."  So I went over and took it.  I hid it in the garage and when Monday came around for garbage pick up, I put it in a big garbage bag with some other stuff and put it on the curb.  Of course, Jane went out to our garbage to look through it to see if it was in there.  But I had it camoflaged pretty well.

So about two or three days later, sure as shit - she had another burn can that she hauled from somewhere.  And she kept burning stuff.

One morning, she was out there burning crap again and I went over to her and I said, "Jane, before your neighbors call the fire department on you, I have to tell you what you're doing is illegal." 

She said, "My neighbors won't call the fire department on me.  They all like me."

I said, "Don't be so certain about that." 

She said, "Well, you burn things in your can."

I said, "Yeah, twigs, branches and logs.  Not garbage and leaves.  And it's not a can, it's a fire pit."

So one day a week or so later, Cindy gets home about 5 p.m. and it's a hot summer day.  Just sultry and the air is heavy.  Sure enough, Jane's out there and she's got a major smoldering fire going.  And the smoke is just hanging in the air.  Cindy said, "That's it!  I'm calling the Fire Department." 

After determining that it probably wasn't a 911 call, we tried to call the closest fire department on Locust St.  We couldn't get anyone to answer the phone.  So Cindy finally called the police department and said, "Look, this isn't an emergency, but we have an elderly lady next to us who insists on burning leaves and garbage in her back yard.  We've asked her nicely many times before to stop it and she keeps doing it.  We'd just like to have someone come over here and tell her she can't do that." 

The person at the police station asked for the address, Cindy gave it to her and she said they'd send Cindy's request along and that was it.  We really didn't think anything would happen.

About 15 minutes later, I'm in the kitchen at the sink and all the sudden I hear Cindy exclaim from the front hallway, "Oh my God, Will!  The FIRE DEPARTMENT is out front!"  I went up and looked and sure enough, there's a hook and ladder truck in front of Jane's house. 

We went out into our "Lodge" - our three season porch on the backside of our house - and watched as two firemen approached Jane as she was sitting in her back yard watching the smoke billow out of the can.  And as they talked with her, a third one got her water hose out and doused the fire. 

They wrote her up - a warning it turned out - and then they left. 

So about 15 or 20 minutes later, Cindy and I are getting dinner ready in the kitchen and I hear someone knock on our back door.  It's Jane.  I go out and she said, "Well, you were right.  Someone called the fire department on me." 

I said, "Well, Jane, we told you that you couldn't do that.  There are people that live around here who have trouble breathing when there isn't smoke in the air.  I'm sure someone just had enough." 

Jane said, "Well, that man was a liar to me!"

I said, "What man?"

She said, "That man who gave me the warning!  He had me sign this piece of paper before he told me what I was signing."

"What did he tell you you were signing?"

She said, "He wanted to know if I understood what I just signed and I said I didn't know.  So he told me.  If I knew what it was for, I wouldn't have signed it." 

"Yeah, Jane, but what did he tell you what you were signing?"

Jane said, "He told me that if I get caught burning again it's a $100 dollar fine.  Well, I don't have that kind of money so I guess you people win."

I said as she was walking away, "But, Jane, you weren't supposed to be doing that in the first place."

She turned back in anger and yelled, "Why are you taking that man's side?!  What did I ever do to you?!" 

I said, "Jane, you weren't supposed to do it.  A neighbor turned you in.  Get over it."

She said, "Well, I'm not going to be around much longer anyhow.  You people will miss me when I'm gone."

Somehow, I think that A) She's going to live a lot longer than she - or we - think; and B) I doubt if I'll miss her that much when she does go.

Cindy vs. Jane

At first, Cindy used to feel sorry for Jane.  After some incidents this last summer, she's ready for Jane to go to the home.

Cindy is a great little gardener.  Our backyard turns into a colorful jungle of plants, flowers and bushes in the summertime.  Jane is also a gardener.  Only nothing grows in her garden.  And what does grow, she usually either cuts down, pulls out or breaks off.  She's sort of like Morticia Adams. 

Jane had this area next to our yard, back in the corner, that she used to throw the crap that she would accumulate from around the neighborhood.  It was an eye sore because along with leaves and weeds she pile in there from her trips, there would be candy wrappers and other debris that she would pick up and bring home to throw away.  I told her that we'd clean it up for her if we could use it to plant some tomatoes in there.  She said, "As long as you don't plant anything pretty in there, that's fine with me." 

So we planted some tomato and pepper plants in there this spring.  We put a fence around it so the bunnies wouldn't get into it and waited for the plants to grow.

In the meantime, Cindy planted some small ground hugging plants up front underneath our maple tree this year.  Believe me, we've tried to grow a lot of things up there, but nothing has seemed to work.  The old maple tree just sucks too much water out of the ground.  So she thought she'd try something that flourished in dry, shady areas. 

One morning, I look out my office window and I see Jane out in our yard picking stuff up around the tree.  Then I realize - she's pulling up the new plants Cindy put in, thinking that they were weeds.  I ran out and said, "Jane, what are you doing?  Those are plants!" 

She said, "They are?  Well, they looked like weeds to me!"

I told her to just leave the stuff in our yard alone.  She kind of glared at me and walked away.

I came home from the road one evening in mid-June and Cindy was out back looking at some of her bushes in the corner by Jane's yard.  Her daughter, Sara, was there and as I was pulling stuff out of the car she came over and said, "Oh boy, is mom PISSED!"

I said, "Something I did?"

Sara said, "No, something Jane did." 

I said, "Do I need to have a beer before I go see what the problem is?"

Sara said, "I would if I were you."

So I go over to where Cindy is standing and she is just beside herself.  She had transplanted this bush - we don't know what kind it is - but it grows tremendously in the summertime, gets all leafy and tall, and then develops these little lavender berries in the fall and the leaves turn into a nice yellow color and usually stay on the bush long after the other trees and bushes had lost their leaves.  Anyway, it was just beginning to grow, it was about waist high when I left. 

When I saw it, the branches were all lopped over and broken off.  Cindy said, "Look at what Jane did!   That's it!  I'm going to put in a fence.  I can't have her coming over here and doing this to my plants!  This is ridiculous!" 

Turned out that Jane thought the bush was a weed.  A WEED!  Jesus...

Fast forward to late August.  The bush had recovered, it was looking good.  Cindy had a fence company come over and quote prices.  She decided that fencing was too expensive.  Jane was still coming over and would do weird things - like bending the support posts for the fencing around the vegetable gardens. 

And she planted a couple spider plants in the garden that we were trying to grow tomatoes and peppers in.  Except the tomatoes and peppers were getting a fungus cankor that is attributed to too much watering.  And it was the worst drought in years here in the Quad Cities this summer. 

Cindy said, "You're watering the plants too much."  Well, I knew I wasn't.  Turns out that Jane - who complains that water prices are too high - was going over there with her hose and literally drenching the plants.  I finally caught her one morning and I said, "Jane, stop watering the plants!  They aren't growing because I'm watering them and then YOU water them." 

Anyway, I'm walking out to the garage to get a beer one evening around 5:30 and I see Cindy over in the corner talking with Jane.  Well, actually, more yelling at Jane.  I heard her say, "Jane, I think you should just leave now before I REALLY lose my temper." 

So I go over to see what she's mad about.  Jane had broken the branches off the bush AGAIN!!  Cindy was just sick.  She said, "Will, I know she's just trying to help, but we told her that was a bush when she did it the first time.  Now she comes back and does it again!" 

The very next morning, Cindy's getting ready in the bedroom.  She looks out and Jane is bending the posts for the garden fence again!  After I'd straightened them out!  She said, "Will, go yell at Jane and tell her to knock it off!  She's bending the posts again!" 

So I look out the window and, yep, she's bending the posts.  I yell, "Jane, please!  Don't bend those! We've asked you nicely in the past not to do it, but now you're just pissing us off!" 

She turned around and said, "Now you're just picking on me!  And with all the things I do for you people." 

I said, "Yeah, like ruin our plants and bushes!"

I still don't know why she was bending them over. 

When the tomatoes and peppers finally ripened, about a month too late, I gave all the crappy ones with the splits and the spots on them to Jane.  We kept the good ones to eat or to give out to the neighbors. 

She ate them.  And she was happy.  Come on - this is a lady who eats weeds.  She is more than happy to get tomatoes that have some imperfections.

The Good Samaritan

Jane once told me during one of her many religious diatribes where she rambles on and on that you should do unto others as you would have them do unto you.    And that's a noble philosophy to have in life, one of which I try to follow.  Especially in helping out the elderly people in our neighborhood.  Except, I really don't expect anything in return. 

We are literally surrounded by elderly people.  The couple to the one side of us, Harry and Eldora (I keep telling her that they named a town after her in Iowa), are in their mid 80's.  Barb, behind us, is in her early 80's.  Anne, across the street, is in her 70's.  Dave and Robert, on either side of Anne, are in their 70's.  And Jane is also in her mid-80's.

Most of the people who live around here have guys that come around to mow their lawns, to shovel the snow off the walks, to clean the gutters out, etc., etc.  Except Jane.  With the exception of mowing (of which she doesn't have to have done very often because her yard is over-ridden with Creeping Charlie and other weeds), Jane does a lot of that herself.

That's right - she gets up on a ladder, climbs up on her roof and then leans over and cleans out her gutters.  Of course, her son, who lives three blocks away, either won't or can't come up and help her, so she does it. 

Now, I won't help her - I'm afraid of heights and it's just enough for me to get on our ladder a couple times a year to clean crap out of our gutters.

And sometimes she'll do it in the rain.  On Memorial Day a couple years ago, it was pouring and Jane's gutters are overflowing.  I'm out in the "Lodge" watching it rain and I hear a commotion over by Jane's house.  I look over and she has gone out into her garage, gotten her aluminum ladder and was putting it up against the house to climb up and clean out the gutters.  In the pouring rain!  With lightning in the area!  On an aluminum ladder! 

I watched her climb up and when I saw her put one foot on the roof, I said, "Oooo, I can't watch any longer..."

But, as always, I digress...

I like to shovel snow.  It's good exercise.  When we lived in our house over on the west side of Davenport, if the walks hadn't been shoveled yet in front of the neighbor's houses on either side of us, I'd go ahead and get their main sidewalk.  And with me gone a lot of the time, I could usually expect one or the other to get our walk for us if I was out of town and Cindy didn't have time to get to it. 

When we moved over here, the lot sizes are a lot larger, there's more sidewalk to shovel, but I'd still go ahead and do it for the neighbors on both sides.  Well, except I did it a couple three times for Harry before he finally told me that he had someone that came and shoveled the walk for him. 

So, I'm still doing Jane's walk, but fully thinking that she will never have to reciprocate in shoveling when we can't get out there.  (As an aside - Cindy was fed up with having to shovel the sidewalks and driveway when I was out of town and she went and got a snowblower last year.  We used it once after she bought it!) 

One morning a couple years ago, it was snowing like all get out.  Wind was howling, it was cold.  We must have had six inches on the ground and it was still coming down.  So, I'm sitting in my office, which faces the front of our house, and I hear something outside.  It's Jane, dressed in a house coat, a dress, high top leather basketball shoes (no shit!), and no socks - shoveling our walk! 

First of all, she looks like she dresses like a boat person; secondly, here's this little old lady shoveling OUR walk!  I thought, "Great, I can just see someone from a television news crew coming by and seeing her shoveling in this howling snowstorm and asking her what she's doing.  Then they'll find out that she's shoveling her able-bodied NEIGHBOR'S walk, and they'll be coming up and knocking on our door wanting to ask questions as to why a lady in her 80's is shoveling our walk."

So, I go out the front door and holler at her, "Jane, what are you doing?  You don't have to do that!" 

She said, "Well, I just thought I'd help out."

I said, "Jane, I appreciate it, but stop it!  Get back into your house and I'll take care of our walks when it quits snowing!" 

She kind of gave me one of those looks like, "Well, FINE!  See if I ever help YOU again!" 

Cindy and I know that she means well, but she's just not right in the head.  And she's been getting worse...

Letters from Jane

Every once in a while we'll get some letters or notes from Jane that she leaves under rocks on our steps.  They're usually written on the back of a used envelope or some used piece of paper in pencil.  The handwriting is shaky, but legible.

The first letter came soon after we first fully moved in.  She said that she could tell we were fun people but didn't approve of us drinking, smoking (our friends, not Cindy or I), or cooking meat. 

Subsequent letters dealt with her trials and tribulations of growing up during the Depression, about how her father once had money and now every one thinks she's rich, and about how the Bible prophocied the coming famine and the end of the world.  And how she was going to live because she has food in her basement.  Man, I can just imagine how bad that basement is. 

One letter she brought over talked about how her late husband was "oversexed".  Another one said that she had cancer, but wouldn't go to a doctor because doctor's lie.  She actually was looking kind of bad for awhile, but then we got another letter later in the summer that said that her cancer was cured because she had eaten garlic and her cancer was all gone. 

One time, Jane was burning trash in her back yard in this old rusted out garbage can that she found God knows where.  She obviously got the idea from us because we have one of those outdoor woodburners and we'd throw fallen twigs and branches in the thing and we'd let them burn with a couple logs on a cool night.  Well, she thought she could just burn ANYTHING - leaves, magazines, milk cartons, phone books.   

One night when she was at church, I went over to her place and took the thing, hiding it in our garage, and then hiding it in a large garbage bag with some other junk we tossed out and put it on our garbage pile for curbside pick up on a Monday morning.  Before the garbage truck showed up, I looked out my office window and there was Jane pawing through the pile of garbage, undoubtedly looking for her burn can.  I had it hid in a big garbage bag pretty well and I'm sure she couldn't tell if it was in there or not. 

So later in the day, I go out to my car and under the windshield wiper is a note from Jane.  She said that a thief in the neighborhood stole her burn can and she said that she probably upset some people with her burning.  She wrote, "I guess I shouldn't have burned the phone book." 

All I know is that I was a hero with the neighbors.  But in less than a week, she had found another rusted out garbage can on one of her many walks around the neighborhood and she was back to burning shit again.  I'll tell you how that story ended up in a later post.

We just got a letter from her yesterday that said the following:

"Why are you going to let your pumpkins freeze? (We had some ornamental pumpkins on our front steps.) I will buy them from you.

"I can't remember your names.  I take garlic for my cancer, but it makes me forget people's names.

"I like to fry the pumpkins up in a skilet (sp).  They taste good.  If you let me buy your pumpkins I'll tell you how they taste." 

Cindy said, "Oh, hell, I just told her that she could have them when we're done with them." 

So she had me take a pumpkin over to Jane.  "That'll keep her busy for a little while," Cindy said.

I really wish I'd saved all the letters.  She really is good entertainment.

Moving In

We actually lived in our house for a week before we moved the bulk of our stuff over from the old house.  We had bought a bed and a new fridge and stove and we had it delivered on the day we closed on the house.  Cindy announced that there was no way that she was going back to the old house to stay. 

So, we got a bunch of our friends together and moved our big stuff on a Saturday morning in mid-August.  Things go extremely well and by 1 p.m. I've got the Weber grill going and we've got brats and pork chops cooking and the beer is flowing.   We're sitting on the deck relaxing and my friend, Mike Schroeder, kind of looks past me and over toward Jane's back yard.  He said, "Does that lady want something, Will?"

I look over my shoulder and there is Jane just standing there with this look on her face of complete disgust.  Or contempt.  Or something.  She was just standing there looking at us.  I didn't even acknowledge her. 

A little while later, we're sitting there and I had my back to the yard and Cindy is sitting next to me and suddenly I hear this voice, "Would any of you fun people like to have this shirt?"  I turn around and there's Jane and she's trying to pawn this dirty, ratty t-shirt off on us.  I about came unglued and told her to get the hell out of here.  But, Cindy, bless her heart, spoke first and said, "Oh, Jane, I don't think there's anyone here who can wear this shirt.  It's too small." 

So Jane turned around and walked away.  Mike's wife, Gwen, said, "What is up with HER?  What's her story."  So we had to tell them about Jane.  Gwen said, "My God!  She could be trouble." 

About an hour or so later, we're still on the deck, still drinking (had to go on a beer run) and having a good time.  I still have my back to the yard and I hear this voice coming from behind me, "Now, you fun people, I'm going to church now and I'm going to pray for each of you."  I turned around and Jane was dressed up and and was clutching this little purse in front of her.  I just looked at her and didn't know what to say. 

Cindy's dad, John L., was laughing.  He said, "My God, she's just like the typical little ol', church going lady, isn't she?" 

I'm afraid an hours worth of prayers from Jane still couldn't help us...

Meeting Jane

When we moved in to our home in August of 2002, we got a chance to talk with the lady, Kate, who was moving out.  I said, "OK, so how are the neighbors." 

She said, "Well, the people on this side (the east side) are very nice, and the lady across the street is wonderful, but the lady on the other side..."

We were like, "Yeeeees??"

Kate gave us kind of a pained look and asked, "Well, are either of you Catholics?" 

Cindy said, "I grew up a Catholic, but I don't practice the religion any longer.  Why?"

Kate said that the lady, Jane, was from a religion where they hated Catholics.  I said, "What religion would that be?"

She said, "You know, I really don't know.  But some of her ideas are way out there."

So, a couple three days later, it's a Saturday morning and we're getting some stuff squared around in the house and we looked out the bedroom window and creeping across our lawn is this old lady.  I said, "Oh, God, Cindy.  I think that's Jane."

Cindy said, "I think she's coming over to introduce herself."

I said, "Are you ready for this?" 

She gave me a nervous smile and said, "I guess."

So Jane knocks on the back door and we go out and introduce ourselves.  The very first thing she asks us is if we're Catholic.  No shit.  Cindy, very tactfully said, "Oh, we don't like to discuss religion." 

And Jane said, "Well, I do...", and went into this diatribe about how she hates Catholics and how when the Catholics take over the U.S. government they'll kill all the heretics.  And she said that she'd be among the first to be killed because she's the biggest heretic there is. 

She then started talking about going around the neighborhood and picking weeds so she can bring 'em back and process 'em and store them in her basement.  "You know you can eat weeds."  She went on to say that when the famine comes she would have food and everyone would be starving.  "The bible says a famine is coming."   She was pointing out the Creeping Charlie weeds in her yard - it was full of the stuff - and she said, "Now, you can eat these, too.  They're not as good as other weeds, but if nothing else is available, you can eat these." 

She explained that she was a child of the Depression and lived on a farm in southern Iowa.  She said her father was rich before the Depression but they had to make do with eating weeds during the early 30's.  "But that doesn't make me rich now.  I made the mistake of telling people that my family was rich before the depression and now everyone thinks I'm rich," she said.

She went on and on about religion and the Bible and hating Catholics and warning us about thieves in the neighborhood, and it occured to us that we had to politely excuse ourselves and move away or we would have been there for hours learning a lot more about her than we wanted.  We said we had things to do and we went back into the house.  I said, "Jesus Christ!  I thought she'd never shut up." 

Cindy said, "She's going to be interesting to live next to."