dear friends

I know that if Donnie and Cherry Obermiller visit this blog and see these pictures - I'm going to get it. Gina and I love the Obermillers dearly. I am happy they are on facebook. Donnie signed on last week.

Gina and I met Donnie and Cherry when we were living in Bowling Green, KY. We met them when we started attending Fountain Square Free Methodist Church (1992?). We started hanging out together and it was Donnie that told us about the house that was for sale by owner in his neighborhood. The fun times increased when we bought that little house on Robinhood Trail and were in constant access of each other.

We'd get together almost every evening. We shared in each other's lives. Played countless card games and conversations. We went on evening walks together - back and forth Robinhood Trail in the evening to get a little exercise and always chatting up a storm.

There was a Winter storm that hit Warren County and we were iced in for a week. Our families took inventory of each other's food supply and we shared meals twixt the two households. I remember one of those icy evenings when Gina and I were walking over to their house with our food offering. The street was iced over and we were doing our best not to slip. Well - I slipped. At the time I was carrying a wok filled with pork chops and rice I'd just made. My feet went completely out from under me (like you'd see in a comic strip). I landed square on my back and the fall knocked the wind out of me. I experienced it all in slow motion. I remember tilting the wok as my feet went up. I remember falling backwards and thinking of the pork chops. The chops were the main course of the evening. There I was, flat on my back on the ice - holding the wok right side up. . . a winter storm miracle. I lay there for a moment beneath the street light looking up at Gina's dark form hovering over me. With a concerned voice she asked, "Are the pork chops okay?" I could not speak.

Donnie used to drop by each weekday morning on the way to work for a cup of coffee. It became a little ritual. He'd drop by, have a cup and a small chat and off he went. My coffeemaker broke one day and I didn't replace it right off. Donnie continued to stick his head in the mornings hoping for his cup of morning joe. He told me to go buy a new coffee maker but I kept forgetting. I remember one morning hearing a car pull up in our gravel drive and then and drive off. I stuck my head out the door and no Donnie. I looked down and saw a new coffee pot (still in the box) on my doorstep. The ritual continued the next morning.

I remember one day I was returning home from downtown and I noticed an unmarked car with it's lights on riding my bumper. The face behind the wheel was Donnie's. My first thought was to pull over to the side of the road. I could clearly see that devilish smile on his face and then remembered that I had never been in a high speed chase before. We both floored it home - lights - sirens - and burning rubber.

We spent so much time with the Obermiller family that they became part of our family. Donnie's job transferred him down to Louisiana and he did everything he could to stay in Bowling Green. The Obermillers eventually had to go along with the reassignment and leave Kentucky. Bowling Green just wasn't the same after Donnie and Cheryl left. The neighborhood seemed so empty without them just down the street.

Gina and I moved back to Gadsden after we found out that we were expecting. We've seen them a handful of times since our days in Kentucky. We went down to Slidell a few times and later to their present residence in Germantown, TN. They too have made their way over to see us - but it's been a long while since we've seen each other. They are still loved and missed. We would really like to see them again - better yet - be neighbors again.

I remember being back in Alabama that first year - wishing that we had our old friends drop in for the evening for coffee and muffins. Sit around for a while and talk until Donnie nods off on the floor while the news is on. Even our neighborhood in Southside, AL seemed empty.

I hope that when I die - and move into my final address - that we get our old neighbors back. Yes Donnie, I'll always have a pot on for you.