Good neighbors in deed, indeed

     
  

     



One of my first interactions when I moved here made me feel welcomed among good neighbors. I needed to put up a new locking mailbox instead of the previous owner's rusting-away one. I purchased the mailbox online and the day before the Post Office was going to switch over my address, I went  up to the parking lot to take off the old one and attach my new one to the long board where the individual moorage mailboxes are lined up.

I knew that the old one was attached by rusted nails and I hadn't yet unpacked or found my crowbar, so I took a hammer and some screwdrivers with me. After probably a half hour of banging and twisting away at the mailbox, I hadn't done anything to remove it. This was November, it was a cool, rainy day and I was wearing old work clothes and surely looking bedraggled.

I decided I needed to find that crowbar, whatever it took. Before I got to my house, the fellow pictured above, whom I'd never seen, was going into another tenderhouse. He looked at me and asked if I needed help. "You wouldn't happen to be able to put your hands on a crowbar, would you?" I asked. Certainly. He came out of the tenderhouse with a long, maybe 3-foot, crowbar. Wow. Then he asked, "Do you need more help?"

Usually I would be Miss-I-can-take-of-things-myself but I was too weary and admitted that yes, I could use more help. This fellow, who introduced himself as Tom Hekker, Jr., oldest son of my neighbors Tom and Claire Hekker, came up to the parking lot with that crowbar and in a wink had the old mailbox removed.

I truly lucked out. It turns out their family has a metal roofing business and Tom's truck was in the parking lot. He got out a drill but couldn't get an angle to drill holes to attach my new mailbox because the ones on either side were too close. He said, "I think I need to make tabs." He went back to his truck, got a piece of sheet metal and crimpers, cut out four tabs, riveted them to the mailbox, and then drilled straight down to attach it. All this took maybe less than 10 minutes.

He refused to be paid or take anything from me. "Look out for my mother" was all he asked in return. I did get him a pair of my favorite kind of work gloves as a gift. His folks have a reputation for helping others on the moorage and when I asked about getting him something as a gift, I was regaled with creative ideas that people had thought up to thank them.

Below: Tom and Claire Hekker with

two of their nine children, Joyce

and Tom, Jr.