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Love thy neighbor

The idea for this column is often borne of end-of-the-workday conversations with my husband. As we sat in the barn office last night reviewing our respective days, Jim mentioned a conversation he had earlier in the day with our neighbors to the north.

With opening day of deer season just around the corner, Jim called to let Lashely and Joyce know that we are planning to hunt along the part of our farm that borders their farm, but want to do so at a time when no one is hunting the part of their farm that borders our farm. It is the neighborly thing to do, but also the safe thing to do when you are using high powered rifles, which are legal in the state of Missouri.

During this conversation, he also mentioned that Joyce had been by earlier in the week to drop off the castrating clamps her son (whose land does not border ours, but who does border his parents’ land) had borrowed last month when working Great Aunt Lillian’s calves. In the middle of telling me about Joyce’s visit, the telephone rang. Randy, our neighbor to the east, was assuring Jim that he was in no hurry to retrieve the scaffolding we had borrowed to work on the electric lines in our corral, and as a matter of fact, if it is out of the way in our show barn and if we don’t mind, perhaps we could just keep it for a while.

When Jim hung up the phone, he mentioned that he and Randy had spoken earlier about hunting season and had agreed that neither would shoot a buck this year unless it was at least a 12-point. They did, however, agree that it would be a good idea to let me shoot one if I had one in my sites since I have no “trophies” hanging on the wall.

“We’ve decided we’ll just shoot does,” he said, which of course is a better means of controlling the deer population, which is the goal of our Conservation Commission.

As the minutes went by, we laughed about sending a card to another neighbor congratulating him on his retirement. He did retire from the FBI a little over a year ago, but within weeks was serving as a consultant to the U.S. Department of Homeland Security and began his new job overseeing Missouri’s Department of Homeland Security earlier this week.

As we laughed about Paul’s retirement, I mentioned that I needed to get the wildflower seeds that another neighbor had given me at church last Sunday scattered on the hillside at the edge of the timber. Shirley, who lives about 3 miles away, and Eileen, whose home is tucked away down a long country road, have made it their goal to beautify the countryside, reminding Jim and the other men not to spray brush killer where wildflower seeds have been scattered.

Our smiles turn to expressions of concern as our conversation drifts into the news of the day. Fighting in the Middle East, a murder in nearby Columbia, riots in Paris are all topics of discussion as we turn off the lights in the barn office and head to the house.

As we walk to the house, holding hands, I wonder if these tragic events would have taken place if people in the world would treat one another in a neighborly fashion. When was the last time a neighbor felt comfortable “dropping by” to visit you? Or are you and they so busy that you have to make an appointment for a cup of coffee and conversation on a Saturday morning?