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Amanda Lamb: On the porch

Every once in a blue moon, you meet someone who makes your day worthwhile. For me, that person was 85-year-old Garfield. Part of me doesn't even want to write about our meeting because I'm afraid of diluting its meaning and importance. But, then again, I'm a writer. That's what I do.

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On the porch
By
Amanda Lamb

Every once in a blue moon, you meet someone who makes your day worthwhile. For me, that person was 85-year-old Garfield. Part of me doesn’t even want to write about our meeting because I’m afraid of diluting its meaning and importance. But, then again, I’m a writer. That’s what I do.

I was at a library event recently, and I met Garfield’s daughter, Deborah. She was running into the library to get or return books, I’m not sure which one. And, she approached me in the parking lot. She introduced herself and told me her father was a big fan of mine, had been for years. She then decided to attend my book talk on the spur of the moment. Afterwards, we took a photo together, sent it to her father and said our goodbyes.

After Deborah left, I suddenly felt bad for not sending a signed book home with her to give to her father. I had her phone number because I had texted her the picture, so I asked for her address so that I could mail him one. I woke up the next morning thinking about Deborah and her father again, and decided I would deliver the book in person so that I could meet him. I texted her to tell her I would like to come by, and she told me that they would be “on the porch” all day.

Come to find out, Deborah and her father deliver grandchildren and nephews to a Raleigh elementary school every morning directly across the street from the front porch of their family’s home. Then, they sit on the porch and chat, read, and pass the time with stories about the way things used to be.

Sometimes, Deborah volunteers at the school. If the kids have a fire drill and are out on the school lawn, they wave to Deborah and Garfield across the street. At the end of the day, Deborah and Garfield walk over and pick the kids up. In short, the children know that if they need anything, Deborah and Garfield are within a stone’s throw of the school, literally. It occurred to me that these children have the most wonderful security blanket, one from a bygone era, where extended family takes care of their own, sitting on the porch, waiting for their safe return.

They explained to me that generations of their family have gone to this particular elementary school. Garfield had four daughters. Now, he has countless grandchildren, great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren. He still lives in the same house where he raised his children just around the corner from the school.

After getting out of the service, he worked for a family-owned automotive parts company in Raleigh for decades. The owners treated him well, even bought him a truck when he retired that still sits in front of the house. He gestures to it proudly as he regales me with tales of their generosity over the years.

Deborah says her father is losing a little bit - a little bit of his memory, that is. She wants to write down his stories, to preserve them for the family while she still has him here with her on the porch. I tell her I think that’s a great idea

I ask him about his name. He tells me with a Cheshire cat grin that his mother named him after her first boyfriend, the one before his father.

“Can you imagine that?” he asks with a belly-laugh, shaking his head.

I visited with Garfield and Deborah on their white picket fence porch in the glow of a beautiful North Carolina morning beneath bright sunlight. The warm breeze was lined with just the slightest hint of the cool underpinnings of fall. Only the pumpkins on the front stoop reminded me that summer was definitely gone.

As I looked across the street at the sweet historic school, I pictured the children running out of the front doors, bookbags slung over their shoulders, shoes untied, full of restless energy, running into the waiting arms of Garfield and Deborah, and I thought lucky kids. Wouldn’t it be nice if every child had someone “on the porch” waiting for their safe return…

Amanda is the mom of two, a reporter for WRAL-TV and the author of several books including some on motherhood. Find her here on Mondays.

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