A Great Loss

My mom called earlier this evening with some very sad news. Our neighbor, Mr. Schoenfeldt, died in his sleep last night. He was 83. In the wake of the tragedy of Steve Irwin's death, you would think a man in his 80's dying of natural causes would be much less significant. For me, however, it's a bigger deal. He was a good friend of mine, from the early age of 2.

Mr. Schoenfeldt and his wife have lived next door since my parents moved in. They have been the only neighbors in that house for the past 33 years. He owned a gas station for years and service center. He loved fixing cars. When I was 3 years old, he taught me the names of all his tools, and while he lay under those cars in his driveway, he'd ask me for a Phillip's head screwdriver or a wrench and I'd hand it to him. He loved telling people about that, even when I was a mom in my 30's!

When I was little, his son was a big stock car builder and racer. He took me to the Danbury fair to watch the races, ride a few rides, have some cotton candy and a balloon, which I clearly remember flying out the window on our drive home! He was like a grandfather to me, and his sweet, gentle demeanor made him a pleasure to be around, especially for a little kid.

Once I was driving and had my own car, a lemon of a Ford Tempo, he also became my emergency mechanic. I remember one time my brakes were shot and my parents were away. I had to go to work, but I knew I couldn't drive my car. He fixed them for me, right then and there. I could always count on him.

In the past few years, we've had the Schoenfeldt's over at various times of the year and it's been fun. The last time they came, they told us how they met, she was the child of an immigrant farmer living in Newtown, CT with no electric! They met at a party and she needed a ride home, so he took her. And that was their story. I'm sure there's a lot more, but the little bit that they shared brought huge smiles and laughter to theirs and our faces.

In the past ten or so years, Mr. S has worked at the Mobil gas station down the street. It gave him something to do and he was unobtrusive, happily went about his own business. I'm sure all those young whippersnappers who worked with him never knew that he'd once owned and operated a similar setup. He did all the menial labor around the place and I know he loved it! At the beginning of the summer, I stopped there on my way out of town to gas up and saw him. I tried to get his attention, but I missed him. So I went on my way. This last trip, however, I saw him again. I'm so glad now that I went right over to him to say hi and bye. It was the last time I saw him and I am glad I took the time to stop for him. He was so worth that minute!

I don't really know what this means for his wife, Anne. She is super special to us as well, but she has been very sick for a long time. Their only son lives in California and really wanted them to move out there, but they loved living in CT, right next to my mom. Both of them had been very disturbed by my father's death and really went out of their way to take care of my mom. Now this could all change. I felt my mom's sense of security drop a notch when she told me the sad news and wondered if she might have to endure having new neighbors.

I think what I will miss the most about Mr. S is his amazing smile, which enveloped all who saw it with a friendly warmth. He was a man with a huge heart, a servant's heart, and nowadays, he'd be one in a billion! I will also miss hearing his wife yell out the back door, "JOHN!!!!" in the way that meant, "Where in the world are you and what are you doing??" He was always tinkering in his garage, yard or basement! But probably the hardest thing to give up is the knowledge that two people who love my mom live right next door if she needs anything at all. That's the kind of neighbors they have always been. It's a big loss, and it's with a heavy heart that I go to bed tonight.