30 years of neighborhood memories

I was 26 years old when we purchased our first -- and only home -- in Mandan. Now, 30 years later, we are the only family in the neighborhood who also lived here in 1985. I'm going to confine my comments to only our immediate neighbors but I could venture out to everyone on several blocks.

To our north was the Meidinger family, who also went to the same church as us. Their daughter, Jill, was our first babysitter. The boys loved her. If they knew Jill was coming, they would spread a quilt on the livingroom floor and when she came in the door they would greet her, take her by the hand and lead her to the quilt. Then they would say, "What are we going to play?"

Our home in Mandan.

Unfortunately, Jill's dad transferred to Minnesota and we lost our wonderful babysitter and her brothers. They have been missed.

The family who replaced them had kids the same age as ours so the relationship was different. Unfortunately, they also had a teenage boy who shot himself. So there has been a sadness in the neighborhood that has really never lifted.

To our south were a couple in their 80s when we moved in and their single daughter. The man and woman died within a week of each other, which left their daughter to fend for herself. She died a couple of years ago and her home sat idle. This winter the house caught fire and it still sits in a state of disrepair.

Belinda's cousin Andy lived to our west and remodeled the home. However, no history of the neighborhood would be complete without tales of the wild parties Andy threw when he was single. In the morning, his lawn would have bodies strewn over it exactly where they passed out the night before. But alas, Andy got married and moved away. Since then the house has had three or four different owners. Right now it's occupied by a single man who is also a county commissioner.

The home closest to us is the one on the east. Originally, it was inhabited by a single mother and her two daughters. The mom was also an Avon lady, so I wasn't disappointed when she left.

Except that the young lady who moved in after that was mentally handicapped and entertained  unseemly men who liked to play outside with knives and arrows. Worried about our little boys, I called the sisters who owned the home and told them about their niece and how I worried about our boys. I told them that either the niece left or I was selling our house and moving elsewhere.

Soon the niece was gone and the sisters sold the home to their brother who fixed up the house. First he rented it to a nice couple who wanted to buy it, but they found the price too high, so they bought a home a few blocks away. Next, a married couple with a tumultuous relationship lived there. Every weekend -- in the summer -- brought family parties, loud music, cussing like sailors and general mayhem. Eventually, they divorced and the woman sold the home to a young single guy who, in spite of playing a trumpet, is way more quieter than the husband and wife.

Yes, the neighborhood holds many memories, but the dearest surround my family and how the neighbors pitched in to help us raise our children. Once when Derek was a little toddler, he wandered off into the road and Mrs. Bauer, who lived three doors to the east, saw him and went out and brought him home.

Mrs. Bauer and her neighbor Mrs. Renner fought like cats and dogs. They disagreed on every matter. Now they are both gone. Our neighborhood seems so much more peaceful.

Belinda and I get along with all of our neighbors and we got along with all the old neighbors. We live next to a city park, and every once in a while one of the grown children from the neighborhood will come with their own children. We will then sneak over to the park and visit with them.

Yes, how fast the time has flown by. Once we were the new kids on the block. Now we are the geezers.