Not So Random Adults in Our Lives

Mr. Frear lived in the neighborhood when I was growing up. In fact, he was the first  resident in the neighborhood. His full name was Dana W. Frear. His wife's maiden name  was Chase. My family lived on Chase Drive, which was parallel to Frear Drive, which  were connected by Dana Drive. You get the idea. We all lived on land that his family had  once farmed. Mr. Frear had retired many years ago from teaching agriculture at the  University of Minnesota in St. Paul. He was hard of hearing, could not see well and  walked with a cane. Mr. Frear also had a foundation structure that used to support a barn  before a tornado took it out  a long, long time ago.  When I was around 12 years old, some neighbor boys and I were messing around one  summer with too much time on our hands. We were exploring the old beat up foundation.  I grabbed a huge, steel ladle that was just lying there and broke one of the windows in the  foundation. Long story short, I ended up paying for the window. But, Mr. Frear didn't want  my folks paying for it (not that they would have), so he hired me at the astounding pay  rate of 60 cents an hour to do odd jobs and lawn work. He kept me on after the window  was paid off. I mowed the lawn and raked leaves. Once or twice a year, i would take a  red coaster wagon and haul the gravel that had been washed down the steep driveway  back up and redistribute it where Mr. Frear wanted it. He taught me how to put a  galvanized pipe hand-railing around the exterior of his house - partly to give him support  and partly so that he wouldn't get lost as his sight became worse and worse. I planted his  garden and weeded it.  I occasionally did some inside work during the winter, but most of the frosty season was  spent shoveling the driveway, sidewalk, and the path next to the galvanized pipe railing.  In addition to the work and learning about pipes, gravel, soldering, and why you should  probably not break windows in what look like abandoned foundations, I had an important  adult in my young life. He taught me a lot. I don't know that he was a friend, but he was a  kind and thoughtful mentor. He was like a piece of history and often talked about "the old  days". He subtly tried to instill in me a healthy attitude towards life and respect for others  - lest I spend the rest of my life smashing other people's windows, i suppose. We were,  at least fond of each other, even though we never did "fun stuff" together. I lived about  seven hours away from my grandparents or any other relatives, so I think he became a  surrogate grandfather to me.  In junior high and high school, I got real jobs. I would occasionally stop by and find out  how things were going with him and get a short course in how to be a kind and thoughtful  sort of person. The last time I saw him, I was one of the pall bearers at his funeral.  Mr. Frear was a great mentor. I'm not sure  that he intended to be, although he had  the heart and experience of being a  teacher. It came naturally to him. I  remember him with affection. So far,  I haven't broken any more windows --  intentionally anyway.