A Good Neighbor

http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.jsp?articleId=281474976864621

 

The above is the story of Miss Ida Reid as written by June M and posted in Gather.com.

 

This story sparked me to write about a gentleman who lived all his life in the neighborhood in which I live in St. Louis. He was just the opposite of Miss Reid but his family, for the most part, abandoned him because he refused to leave what is commonly called a changing area. Mr. Elmer Wenning was born in the house next door to me and worked about 40 yrs at a local factory before he retired. His Dad and Mom died in that same house and after so many years he became a well known fixture all over the area. One would discover it hard to find a nicer more concerned neighbor. Mr. Wenning's major past times included baseball and other sports viewing on TV. He always planted tomatoes and peppers in the spring tho he couldn't eat them due to stomach troubles but had fun passing out the harvest in late summer and early fall.

 

Mr.Wenning had a dog, Prince, who was his constant companion in the yard and inside the house. There were times when I was there making repairs on something or just visiting when I would hear he and Prince arguing about what to view on TV. Prince would sit in his chair next to Wenning and appear to be watching a sports event. In later years there were two TVs making arguments unnecessary.

 

Mr. Wenning passed lots of his time interacting with passing neighbors and telling the history of the neighborhood. He had watched several of the homes being built in his early years and had related the story of how he and his dad dug the basement of my home when he was a teen. Needless to say he had become a precious staple in the area.

 

When we first moved here in 1984 we'd chat over the fence about all sorts of things but he refused to come in our yard. He would accept cooked foods or Bar B Q from time to time and had a feverish love of spaghetti and grilled hot dogs as long as the sauce was well cooked. In our second year here I invited him to a yard party and was shocked he actually came. Friends and neighbors found him lovable, intelligent and engaging with all his many stories. We learned he had played minor league baseball in the South and in Mexico before returning to St. Louis to live. There were so many lovely life stories from this lovable man.

 

We had asked about any family he had while being aware he had never married. The only woman other than his mother he had loved married another and he never courted again. We were shocked to find out he had many cousins and a very old uncle in the St. Louis area who had years ago abandoned the neighborhood and moved to various suburbs. He had limited contact with them and rarely saw them until they dropped by to get money. He spoke negatively of them all and seemed to carry a harsh attitude of them which I did not understand until his death.

 

Mr. Wenning became like family to my wife and I and several others in the neighborhood and all watched out for him. He was quick to help out when something went wrong and cheered on the rebuilding of older homes and became active in the block units. When he had errands to run most times he took the bus refusing offers of rides. If he was leaving the house he normally called to let us know. One morning we hadn't heard from him nor could we reach him. I got my key to check on him and found him dead in the bath room. After the authorities arrived I called one of his cousins to inform her that he had passed. I was stunned to hear the woman take a deep unconcerned breath and said to me curtly, "bury him." Upon finding out the reason for my puzzled look a police sergeant asked for the number. He called the woman and forcefully explained to her that the remains could not be removed until a family member showed up to identify him. He obviously was tart and showed it. We chatted briefly until the woman showed up to identify Mr. Wenning. She gave no instructions for where to send nor spent any appreciable time there. When the police pointed out that I had been the one who found him she seemed to struggle to even smile and left.

 

While he was being processed at the coroner I contacted one of my favorite funeral homes and explained the situation. I had not given any thought to Mr. Wenning's race until it was suggested I contact another undertaker who had more experience with Caucasians. He made a couple contacts for me and arrangements were started. A day later when the funeral home called to confirm the arrangements I attempted to contact the cousin to inform her but spoke with her oldest daughter who had never met Mr.Wenning and proceeded to ask me questions about him. I invited her to my home hoping to make it easier. She did show up that evening and freely spoke of all she knew of him and why he had become an outcast to the family. Seems that years ago he was asked to join his brother and other relatives in a move to one of the newly developing counties south of the city and he refused. So most of the youngsters new nothing about him nor had ever met him. We parted with her showing a genuine interest in his life.

 

The funeral turned out to be a celebration of his life as we knew it. The handful of family members were over shadowed by his large following of neighbors who came to testify to his kindness and friendly disposition. Several spoke of how he had helped them in times of need and how they loved the peppers and tomatoes from his garden. In the background the song "Take Me Out To the Ball Game" played in his honor. When the celebration was over the family invited a handful of us to share a meal at a nearby cafeteria. Only then did a couple of them seem genuinely concerned about his life and how he lived it. The whole situation seemed terribly sad and depressing that he had family in the metropolitan area who ignored him because he chose not to move from a home he loved and friends and neighbors who loved him.