We drove from our rented house in Taylor trying to find our forever home. The town was called Rockdale. We drove on Highway 79, and there it was.
Quiet on a Sunday morning, little traffic, a calm floating feeling embraced me. I told my husband, “This is a gentle place.”
We found several houses on Zillow. None appealed to me, so I said, “Let’s drive around and just see what is for sale on our own. I love the trees here.” We stopped and parked on O’Kelley Road. I told my husband, “If you see a house like this one, that is what I want. I could do some good writing in that kind of house.” He looked down and said, “It’s for sale.” We called the Realtor and made an appointment for Tuesday. I saw Tobe’s house Tuesday. My husband saw the house Thursday. We made an offer and Tobe accepted. That was 5-1/2 years ago.
We were welcomed with open arms and genuine warmth. We were delighted with our new home and all the kind people living around us.
The most delightful, delicious surprise was Harold “Call me ‘Pepper’ ” Parsley. He told me he had taught drama in high school and had two businesses where they sold food. He was most proud of “Peppers Puppies.” Since we had had a restaurant, Big Mamoos, we under stood the food service business, hard work, but fun work.
My husband and Pepper became friends, seeing each other almost daily.
Our dog, Holiday, fell in love with him, and he called her “Girlfriend,” she hoping to see him every night. It became a ritual over the years, and a happy one. He welcomed our new addition, and appreciated her shy and reticent way of being.
Today, to our deep and wringing sorrow, we said goodbye to Pepper in our own not-Rockdale-way. His sense of humor and gentle kindness resonated in two over-worked transplants. He embraced us with his laughter and his sense of fun, and he had big fun with us, always ready to laugh, always with the funny comeback. A delight, a word embrace that said, “I care.”
Tonight, “Girlfriend,” otherwise known as “Holiday,” came to me and put her head between my knees. In ten years she has never made that particular gesture. Tonight, tonight it’s real—he is gone, really gone; but never will he be forgotten, one-of-a-kind, a gift to all of us. The smiles he brought to these transplants we will reflect and hopefully magnify endlessly. “Let the good times roll.” You did it your way. We love you, Pepper.
Elizabeth Gray and Robert DeWester
- Log in or Subscribe to post comments.