I am the mother of four and grandmother of six and I can’t believe what uproar someone’s actions two hundred years ago are causing.  Shouldn’t we be trying to use our efforts towards that which applies to this day and age, namely: How to maintain peace throughout the globe; how to stop our kids and grandkids from becoming morbidly obese; how to control the pet population; how to prevent the spread of infectious germs; how to prevent unbecoming deformities brought on by osteoarthritis; and how to invent a safer, longer-lasting jet pack?

My mother was an enthusiastic supporter of anyone trying to create a better world for mankind.  She always used to say, “Diane, if everyone was willing to lend a helping hand, there would be a lot of one-handed jugglers in this world,” which was a lighthearted quip that I took to mean, if we would all help each other, then our lives would seem more manageable. 

For some reason, she would always recite this phrase at the dinner table, which drove my husband Paul absolutely bonkers.  He would always respond with, “Hey Meredith (which was my mother’s name), if everyone gave a helping hand, then we’d have to use our feet to clap at the symphony and at other such performances; which means that we’d all have to be barefoot, and I can guarantee you that no one on earth wants to see those two muddy, crackly, warted-up flaps you use as feet!”  This comment was always followed by my mother trying not to cry and me desperately trying to steer the conversation in any other direction.

Paul never was one to go out of his way to help strangers.  He always said that he would be a hypocrite if we continued to tell our children not to talk to strangers and then turned right around and started a conversation with a new neighbor.

One of our longtime neighbors did finally figure out how to get Paul to help in the community.  He discovered that instead of asking Paul to help a new neighbor move in, he would tell Paul that there was a friendly strength competition starting up down at the house with the moving truck in front of it.  Paul would always jump at the chance to be involved in any competition (or to gamble), so I was glad when this particular neighbor got him to help.  I would chuckle to myself whenever I watched Paul from the window trying to carry a whole bedroom set by himself. 

I have never seen anyone sweatier than when Paul came home from helping our new neighbors move in that day.  He was covered in dirt and had small cuts and bruises on his arms and hands, but also with one of the biggest smiles I have ever seen on anyone.  He then said, “Diane, I won the strength competition and the bet, so now you and I are going out for cheeseburgers and milkshakes tonight!” 

I was happy that Paul had made new friends and had helped so willingly.  However, not long after that night, another family moved in down the street and once Paul saw the moving truck he took off running in its direction.  On the way, he hollered at the other neighbors to come out because, as he put it, it was “double or nothing and ‘Captain Ryder’ (which is what he called himself) is hungry for a queen-sized win!”

I thought it was nice that the other neighbors played along, but I was astonished to find out that they were just as competitive as Paul was.  The even made moving games out of existing kid games, such as:  “Marco Polo Shirts,” “The Hammer and Tool Set Throw,” “Kick the Cannondale,” “Murder in the Move” (which apparently was a little like the board game Clue); “Find 26” (which was a simple game crowning the first person to find 26 cents in the furniture); and “Steal the Chips” (which made one family get so upset that they decided to move everything else themselves and sent everyone home early; I still think that their house smells like salt and vinegar).   

I am glad that Paul is so competitive, although at times it can sure be a nuisance.  Paul is a lot older now, and not a lot of people in our neighborhood know us very well.  Every once in a while I still catch him chasing moving trucks down the neighborhood and hollering at the neighbors.  This usually just causes the dogs to bark louder and the smaller children to run inside their houses.     

It has been years since he and I sat down and played a board game together.  I wouldn’t mind playing games again, but Paul has refused ever since the unfortunate “B & O Railroad” incident.  However, that is a whole other story, and I hardly have the time to get into that now.