Sunday, June 12, 2022
When the Birnie home was built across the street I was in third grade. Having Mr. and Mrs. Birnie there was like a second Mom and Dad. Mrs. Birnie finally convinced me that tuna salad HAD to have mayonnaise in it.There were endless summer nights of neighborhood family get togethers in our back yard down by the creek with bats and fireflies glowing overhead. All of the kids would gather for kickballs games and when the Birnie backyard would flood in spring we'd be out there catching tadpoles to watch them grow.It always felt like family at the Birnie house. Mr. and Mrs. Birnie kept the house and yard immaculate. Nary one blade of grass dare grow before the mower would lop it off to keep everything perfect. I remember watching the evening newspaper leave the mailbox and within an hour be placed in the trashcan outside every night.
In the later years when my Dad cut off his fingers in a gardening accident it was Mr. Birnie to the rescue calling 911 and me at work, staying with Dad until the ambulance arrived. I have to say he was Dad's best friend. They would both be outside in the yard and get together for a chat often. Since our house was west of his he would tease Dad about coming over to get the leaves that blew into his yard in the fall. He watched over Dad until it was clear Dad couldn't live alone. Every Christmas there was a card.
So many memories... so little space. My most sincere condolences go out to Scott, Lisa, and Todd and their families.How blessed we all are to have these memories to share from the opportunity we had to live them.
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