My Neighbor Harry

This piece is reposted from the blog My Two Cents: Thoughts of a Small Town Therapist.

Some people are famous in well orchestrated, pretentious, self-serving ways.  Some politicians and other faux celebrities come to mind.

 Harry Cookson, who died in September at the age of 88, was famous in my neighborhood.

 Harry was one of the most generous people I've ever met.

 I moved next door to him in 1996.  He taught me how to be a man in an old fashioned sort of way.  Hammering, sawing, drilling.......all foreign to me before I met  Harry.

 He could fix anything.  He had a genius ability to intuitively understand how things work.  He rescued everyone on the block at some time or other....unlocking a jammed door, unblocking a sink or a toilet, fixing a screen or a window.  He insisted on helping my wife dig her fish ponds.  He insisted on installing a water heater the first week I moved in, threatening to never help me again if I gave him another gift certificate.   He taught me how to shingle my garage, but did most of it himself while I was working.  He mowed a neighbor's lawn, then proceeded to mow every other lawn on his way home through the yards.

 Harry embodied the true and abiding spirit of kindness and generosity.

 He was famous for that.