Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
“Is it OK if we take your picture?”
The teenaged girl shyly waved a digital camera in my direction. I set down my arm-load of split wood and did my best to quickly brush the wood chips and soil from my t-shirt. “Um, I guess…what for?”
“We’re doing an album of the neighborhood. We’re taking pictures of everyone on Tyson Ave.” Her friend standing a pace behind her nodded affirmation.
“Well, we won’t be moving in here until the end of July,” I explained, “but I guess we could be part of that. Let me get my wife.” A few moments later Karyn and I were doing our best American Gothic in front of our address-to-be. The girls snapped the photo, took note of our last name (written on the photographer’s hand, the notebook of choice for teenaged girls), and were off. We went back to our work on the house without giving the photo op another moment’s thought.
We had thought this was going to be our “summer of doing nothing,” but the house changed all that. And we’re more and more glad it did. The house came as an unexpected offer from some old friends of ours. This couple had moved out of his boyhood home to a bigger house in a another part of town. Their plan had been to leave the old house vacant while they renovated it to sell at the market value for homes in the neighborhood. But then they hit upon a different idea. Knowing that we were feeling increasingly uneasy about the apartment we had been in since we arrived in Philadelphia (especially after this year’s announced rent increase), they decided to offer us the use of their old Tyson Ave. house at a very reasonable rent for at least the duration of my degree program (another three years). In exchange, we would help them renovate and maintain the home. At first we went for the “deal” simply because of the twin benefits of lower rent and more room. We also were excited about being much closer to the seminary and having the ability to have students over or guests stay with us. But it wasn’t until this past weekend that the “capstone” reason found us.
Last Saturday was our second weekend working on the house. On both Saturdays several of our dear local friends came by to give us a hand. It was so encouraging to see how much they helped us get done! This past Saturday we warned our friends to park on adjoining streets as we had been told our block would be closed to traffic for the annual Tyson Ave. block party. At the end of the day, after all our friends had left, Karyn and I packed away our paint brushes and yard tools and set off for our car parked a couple blocks away. We didn’t even get off the property, though, before several of our new neighbors-to-be spotted us and insisted we come over to the now-in-full-swing block party.
The next thing we knew we were being introduced all around to the folks on our street. In a moment plates appeared in our hands and we were being urged to try everyone’s special dishes (Dan’s home-smoked chicken was my instant favorite). Every one seemed to be genuinely interested in getting to know us. Before long we were sure that what others had told us was true: On Tyson Ave., the good old American neighborhood is alive and well.
For a long time now Karyn and I have dreamed of living in a real neighborhood, one where people really knew each other, stopped to say hello, took care of you when things were not well. On Tyson Ave. we may finally have found that place. Seeing my newly-found interest in gardening and landscaping (Karyn wants to know who I am and what I’ve done with her real husband), Eileen from across the street told us to not even think about going out and buying expensive plants; she’ll be glad to give us anything from her showcase garden we’re interested in. Soon the men of the street were gathered in front of our new place giving us great tips on how to accomplish some of the things that need to be done. This is a working class neighborhood where there is a plumber-guy and a stucco-guy and a landscaping-guy etc. ready to give you the insider’s know-how. We had only met most of these people that evening, but almost every conversation ended with, “Whatever you need, just let me know.”
Tyson Street doesn’t change much, and people like it that way. The homes are typical of the first rank of older suburbs ringing the city of Philadelphia. Built in the 1920’s and 30’s, our new street is a collection of the classic middle class style’s of that era: avant garde American Craftsman bungalows, tall and narrow Dutch Colonials, efficient little Cape Cods. Most of the people we met had lived in these houses for over 15 years, some their entire lives. People knew each other’s stories…and cared about those stories as well. We heard many of those stories over our home made sausages and beer as the evening wore on. In the background kids cavorted on their bikes and teenagers laughed at each other’s attempts at conquering Dance Dance Revolution.
As early evening turned to dusk, everyone turned their chairs expectantly toward a TV set in the middle of the street that had up until then been the DDR arcade. Those two teenage photographers whom we had encountered hours ago now reappeared with a freshly-burned DVD in hand. For the next half hour everyone delighted in images of Tyson Ave., past and present. The video slide show began with a close up shot of one of the Tyson Ave. street signs. I remember being immediately impressed that here were 14-year-old girls, in the jaded first decade of the 21st century, who actually had a sense of place, a pride in where they grew up. No one seemed the slightest bit bored by the dozens upon dozens of pictures of their neighbors children, pets, birthday parties, backyard barbeques, etc. Though we didn’t know any of them yet, we too felt drawn in by the simple grace of people caring about each other’s lives.
But we were to be even more drawn in. To our utter surprise, in the midst of this “all in the (Tyson) family” display, there was the newly minted picture of Karyn and me, standing arm and arm, our new house in the background. Across the bottom edge it was captioned “The Traphagens.” The neighborhood broke into applause. Suddenly, we were Tysonians.
We’ve often wondered why God brought us to Westminster Seminary and Philadelphia. I don’t have any ambitions for the typical post-seminary careers. All we knew was that this was the next step God wanted us to take, and we trusted that he would show us what we were to do beyond it. But could it be that, at least in part, he brought us here for Tyson Avenue? Could it be that at long last he is breaking us out of the “Christian bubble” we have lived in for years (studying, living, working, and socializing within the confines of Christian ministries and schools)? On Tyson Ave. we may find that we are called to live the love of Christ and the call of the Gospel in ways that we never have before. We can’t wait.
[NOTE: The picture at the beginning of this post is an actual aerial view of our block of Tyson Ave. The red marker points to our new place at #228. Click the picture for a larger view.]
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June 13th, 2006 at 2:29 am
I love this story, Mark. Thanks for sharing it so beautifully.
June 13th, 2006 at 7:22 am
Thanks, Lara. Glad someone is still reading! The house has kept us so busy, I’ve had less time to write than I did during the school semester.
June 13th, 2006 at 7:56 am
That is about eighteen kinds of awesome.
June 13th, 2006 at 8:01 am
Wow, thanks Geof. I guess you can tell how excited I am about this move. I only fear that my piece over-romanticizes the neighborhood. We’re well aware that Tyson Ave. is in no way exempt from the effects of sin. That’s all the more reason we hope to (humbly!) be a light there.
June 13th, 2006 at 8:44 am
Yay! I’m so glad that this is working out for you! You can expect lots of visits from the grandkids - and we’d love to meet your new neighbors too!
June 13th, 2006 at 9:10 am
Having room for grandkids (and others) to visit and stay overnight will be another of the great blessings.
June 13th, 2006 at 12:13 pm
Hey, I know exactly which house that is! We’ll have to visit one of these days, once you get moved in. We considered stopping by with hammers in hand on Saturday, but by the time we finished other errands, time had slipped away and a certain little person needed a nap. Let us know if other Saturdays will be able to use some extra hands.
June 13th, 2006 at 2:44 pm
(1) Did they have helicopter rides at the block party? I’m wondering how/where you got the detailed pic of the house and street.
(2) It’s hard to believe that I live but a few hundred yards from paradise that is Tyson Ave. Sadly, I’m stuck (literally and, apparently, metaphorically) on the other side of the tracks. I feel like Moses looking longingly towards the Promised Land from Moab. Even now I can hear the Lord saying: “This is the ‘good old American neighborhood’ that I promised on oath to the Traphagens. I have let you see it on Mark’s blog, but you will not cross over the train tracks into it.”
June 13th, 2006 at 3:33 pm
That is SO AWESOME! Makes me miss our old neighborhood in St. Louis, though it wasn’t quite so Mr. Rogers. I’m so happy for you guys getting this experience. I’m feeling a little sorry for Doug Greene, though. Y’all will have to have him over to experience some of the neighborhood joy.
Hey, perhaps we’ll see you guys in a couple of weeks (not quite) at the Dawson bash???
Your sis in Christ,
Melissa
June 13th, 2006 at 4:35 pm
Joel:
Keeping with the Exodus theme Doug has set for us, there will be another session of pyramid building this coming Saturday. Bring your own straw. Shoot me an email on Friday for the time slot we’ll be there.
Doug:
That picture was awesome, wasn’t it? It’s from zillow.com, a web service that provides estimated property values. Our area is covered by the detailed aerial pictures, so enter your address. You’ll see a typical straight down shot first. Click on “Bird’s Eye View” and you’ll get the angled view you see on my post. You can even see your house from all four cardinal compass points!
And we very much will consider you among our neighbors. We will, however, look both ways when crossing those (metaphorical and literal) railroad tracks, and we will bring our mace when visiting your neighborhood.
Kidding! We’re glad to be closer to so many of the seminary community, and look forward to having you and Rosemarie over.
June 13th, 2006 at 4:37 pm
Melissa:
There have been no Mr. Rogers sightings on Tyson Ave…yet. I could swear that one of our new neighbors is Lady Elaine Fairchild, though.
We are also looking forward to the gathering in C’ville. See you there!
June 13th, 2006 at 8:16 pm
Hey Mark and Karyn, I hope that your back is holding out Mark with all of that “gardening”. If not, you know who to come see:) Looking forward to your visit!! Melissa, the other one:)
June 13th, 2006 at 8:57 pm
Well, other Melissa, I may need more therapy for my brain than my back by the time we’re done (ref: people who have looked at our project and pronounced us “crazy”)
June 13th, 2006 at 9:57 pm
Hi Mark and Karyn:
I was very drawn in by your great story; I had my 13 year old son read it, too.
Like Doug, we were taken with the sat photos. Jeff seemed to know about them; I was characteristically clueless. We had some fun finding shots of our house, although none had the clarity yours did. I was torn between wondering about privacy issues, and feeling like CTU monitoring a Jack Bauer operation.
Enjoy the “home work” while you can. In such endeavors, I find myself prisoner of an attention span that these days seems to suggest the need for medication. May you fare better!
June 13th, 2006 at 10:30 pm
UPDATE: Karyn has posted on her blog some details of the projects we’ve undertaken at the house, along with some pictures.
June 14th, 2006 at 8:35 pm
Mark,
Sounds like you’ve found home. Makes me really want to get out of northern Virginia, the land of endless townhouse and condominium developments and cookie cutter houses! Anyhow, I’ve enjoyed your blog and I wish you the best in your ministry on Tyson Street.
June 14th, 2006 at 11:31 pm
I feel for you, Matt. I would hate to live in one of those developments where all the houses are variations on the same theme and they tore down all the trees. Something in me would die.
June 15th, 2006 at 1:25 am
Mark, such a heartwarming story - you really have a gift for capturing your experiences in writing. This kind of community is rare indeed! I am thrilled that you and Karyn are already finding it in your new neighborhood.
June 16th, 2006 at 6:33 pm
Mark:
It will only get better. This is truly a great neighborhood; Roslyn, Cliveden, and Mt. Carmel are much the same as Tyson. If you get over heated or your work crew wants a break from home repair, come around the corner and jump in the pool. No invitation or advance warning needed. It’s affectionately called “The Pool,” aka “The Frazier’s.” Also a great place to bring the grandkids when they are in town.
June 16th, 2006 at 11:15 pm
Thanks, Diana. I’ll dig my goggles and flippers out of the moving boxes!
June 28th, 2006 at 5:22 pm
I haven’t been by in a while due to extreme craziness at work, but after your (relatively) recent comments on my blog I figured I ought to check in. What a great story to come back to!
Your neighborhood sounds delightful–the kind of place everyone imagines but few find.
We really want to move ourselves (Durango, Colorado? Burlington, Vermont? Anywhere but here?), but don’t have any way to right now. I admit I don’t fit in well where I live. It’s not the town’s fault; it’s mine. I’m such a city boy, and this town is full of country folks who mostly go back several generations here. I have absolutely no idea how to relate, and I think they don’t know what to do with a guy whose ancestors they don’t know that wears sandals, has a ponytail, and isn’t into hunting or farming. People are very nice; it’s just hard to really connect.
It’s funny–we came here supposedly to start a church, but that didn’t work out. Now I realize that I probably wasn’t the person to accomplish that mission. Of course, now I also see that mission completely differently and have perhaps a little less idealism.
Sorry–didn’t mean to babble on your blog, but your post stirs up lots of thoughts!