Block party reinforces the cycle of family life

The neighborhood gathered for an annual block party last weekend, and, as new neighbors met old-timers, one of the first questions typically was: Which house is yours?

We compared the ages of our houses, which were built across a span of 170plus years — from the 1840s to today. Most of the neighborhood was built out by the 1920s, but a few infill houses arrived in the 1950s, '60s and '70s. One was finished this year.

We talked about the work involved in keeping up old houses. One neighbor has a remarkably solid slate roof more than a century old. He has a couple of shingles coming loose, but those are a function of rusting nails, not the roofing material.

He has the tools to fix them, he said, but lacks a proper roof ladder and the time to make the repair.

I couldn’t help thinking about my long list of summer projects that won't get finished this year now that fall has arrived.

I also realized as my neighbor and I talked that my wife and I are now the old-timers in the neighborhood. We bought our house, our second old house, in August 1992. At that time, I had been writing this column for about a year.

Old house No. 2, we learned, had been owned by the same family for two generations, and, as it turned out, we marked the start of a turnover in houses from old guard to new families. We also marked the start of a

renovation of the neighborhood as each new owner upgraded a house that had been maintained but not remodeled in a generation.

Virtually everyone around us was older and had lived in our neighborhood for years.

Our friends Ralph and Alice Baker had raised a family and retired a few doors down from us. They were the mayor and first lady of our two-block-long street and have since passed on.

The Bakers’ old house is filled again with children, as

the neighborhood is turning over once more.

Another retiree, Ann, had grown up and lived most of her life in the neighborhood. She was a grandmotherly figure to our young children when we moved in next door. Across the street were Herb and Kate, also retirees, who delighted in sitting on their front porch and watching us try to put our kicking-and-screaming twin toddlers into our minivan.

A couple of doors down from them were Tina and Gary, their three daughters and Tina’s dad, who lived with them. Tina had grown up in that house and was

the second generation of her family to own it. They became like family to us, especially after they offered to baby- sit for our three daughters.

One by one, we have watched as our dear old friends moved on. One couple divorced and went separate ways. Another family moved from the house next to us to a bigger one across the street — the one that had been Herb and Kate’s house until they moved to a condo. Then that family moved, and a new neighbor moved in. Yet another couple moved to a new house across town, and now we have new neighbors

there, too.

A few of our older friends moved to retirement homes and later died. Each of their former homes went up for sale, and we have found new friends in our new neighbors. Most were there for the block party on Sunday, listening to live music, eating one another’s potluck dishes and sharing stories about our old houses and our families.

As adults chatted, children and grandchildren drew hop-scotch patterns on the pavement of our blocked- off street while other kids scooted around them on skateboards.

As the old-timer on the block, I drank it all in.

It occurred to me that we’ve watched the circle of life from the front porch of our old house — and that there is so much more to an old house than shingles and siding and lovely old woodwork.

We are grateful for all of the love and friendship we have found in a neighborhood where we fell in love with an old house but knew no one 25 years ago.