Forty years ago, Donna and I moved onto a new street, into a new house. The homes in the area were well-maintained. The neighbors were nice. Our place was commodious. And we settled in.
At the end of the street, there was a house. That I really liked. Half moon, third acre lot with privacy and space. One day while out walking, I saw the owner — Mr. Weiss. I happened to mention that I really liked his house. And that if he ever wanted to sell — to give me a call. I pointed at my place across the street and down the block. We chatted and parted.
I never really thought much about this for a year or so. We’d see Mr. Weiss or his family. Wave. Smile. And drive on. Then. . . . . (cue the trumpets) it happened. I got a call from Mr. Weiss who said that he and his wife were thinking of moving. And he asked if I was “serious” about my interest in his house. I probably said something like “duhhhh – let me talk to Donna.” And I did. And I called him back and said “yes.”
The following weekend, we met with Mr. & Mrs. Weiss in their back yard and talked. We moved inside and talked some more. And after discussing the matter with Donna – we made an offer, they said “yes” and – here we are. Interestingly our address – 1938 – is the year the house was built. . . . .