Does anyone borrow sugar anymore?
That was a common occurrence on East Mulberry Street in Humboldt, back when the evening ritual for neighbors was adjournment to lawn chairs, always with a quorum, to discuss what had happened the previous 24 hours.
Opal Moor lived next door and seldom a day passed when she would wait for evening to come. She’d mosey into the house anytime of the day and take a seat. When chores didn’t beckon, we usually were huddled around an old cabinet model radio. I don’t recall daytime fare, but at night “Sky King,” “The Shadow” and “Lassie” were favorites.
Opal came to visit, but occasionally she had a specific purpose — to borrow a cup of sugar or milk to fill out a recipe. No one ever questioned a neighbor’s motives, which in her case probably was more for conversation than the commodity she requested.
Thad and Lena Clements lived across the street to the south, along with John and Emmy Edwards. Those were families with kids.
Sarajane, now married for many years to John Carder, former Iola mayor, was of my age in the Clements household; Tony Edwards, who now calls himself Tony Catroppa, was as well.
Sarajane — she prefers Jane nowadays — and John are in Hesston, where he retired as city manager.
Tony lives in northwest Arkansas. He owns a couple of restaurants and a club or two, and has most of the local populace fooled into thinking he came from Sicily — helpful, he says, since he runs an Italian eatery. But, he grew up a runny-nosed kid like the rest of us in Humboldt, and his Sicilian accent is contrived, but from years of practice it’s pretty good.
Neighbors were like another set of parents.
If Lena went to the store, she’d bring home candy bars for all the neighborhood kids, not just the gaggle that were hers. And when Opal baked a pie — occasionally with a cup of borrowed sugar — she was sure to share a piece with any kid who happened to be nearby, as well as Howard Penny, the grandson she raised.
Howard was the older brother I never had. When I started school, a chubby kid who could have been a target for older bullies, Howard, a strapping lad, made sure no one picked on “Bobby.”
We lacked most of what kids have today, but we were rich in many ways.
The art of being neighborly
