Columbus, Ohio USA
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Farewell Sweet Jeanne
By Dawn McCombs
November/December 2019 Issue
See Also: Feature Article Mar/Apr 2015
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Jeanne standing outside her home. Photo | Courtesy When I was younger I wanted to save the world. There didn’t seem to be as much to fix back then as there is now, but still I tried. Now that I am older I have learned that I can’t actually save the entire world, but I have made an agreement with myself to do what I can in my everyday life to make positive change. I compost food scraps and recycle religiously in order to keep my trash from filling up the landfills. I don’t use pesticides or chemicals in order to keep poisons out of my local watershed that I share with my neighbors. I rescue strays and try to find them homes. I walk and bike more than I drive and collect gloves and socks for the homeless to help them get through the winter. I vote.
To make myself happier, I also have learned how to scale back my expectations, and I appreciate the smallest moments in each day. Flowers craning their heads impossibly through a sidewalk crack at the start of spring brings me absolute joy. Purple, lavender and pink sunsets spread across the horizon feel like heaven. Riding along the river on my bike surrounded by trees is my nirvana, which brings me to the point of my story.
I have a one-mile ride on the streets of Harrison West from my house to the bike trail, and I researched the safest and most efficient route to get there, in an attempt to avoid traffic. I landed on this route five years ago and I only deviate from it if there is construction that blocks my path. On this route, early on, I would ride past an elderly woman standing on the corner, on the sidewalk. She was very short in stature, slightly hunched over, and often wore a long floral smock. The first time I rode past her she looked up, vigorously waved, smiled and shouted out “Good morning!” Just like the first flowers in spring she made me feel good in that moment to be alive.
Since that first morning that same woman was always standing in that spot, waving, smiling and bellowing sweetly, “Good morning!” Her greeting was so heartfelt and genuine that it moved me, and I found myself waving back just as enthusiastically, shouting “Good morning to you!”
And so it went, for years, on my frequent trips to the bike path along this route, waving to this woman and shouting “Good morning!” Every morning this moment felt like a gift. I was thankful for this woman and had such gratitude for her. A woman that I had never formally met or spoken to outside of our morning salutations was having a profound effect on the start of my days.
Eventually I noticed that it wasn’t just me that she greeted in that way, but many others too, and everyone else seemed to respond in much the same way as I did, her smile’s contagious.
A few weeks ago I rode past and she was on her porch, bent over and sweeping with a very short broom. Her back was towards me. “Good morning!” I shouted and she turned around, waved and said something more this time that I couldn’t quite make out, but I kept riding. The next day she wasn’t there and I saw a “For Sale” sign in her front yard. The following week the sign in the yard was exchanged for one that read, “In Contract.” I searched for her every morning after that in vain, but she was gone. I felt sad that I never had the opportunity to say goodbye, or to tell her how happy she made me feel.
Then I saw her on her lawn, moving out the last remaining items from her house. I stopped my bike to greet her, which I had never done before. She didn’t speak a great deal of English, but her daughter was there, so I was able to tell her how her mother affected me. I learned that she was born in Korea. She moved here and lived in the neighborhood for 44 years. She loved it, so resisted moving to the suburbs, choosing to raise her children here instead. I also learned that her name is Jeanne. I was able to say goodbye to her in person, in the only way that I knew how without words, which was with a hug. Farewell sweet Jeanne. You are making a difference by creating happiness, and I want you to know that in many ways, you are saving the world too.
Dawn McCombs lives, and is the owner of Glean, in the Short North. She likes swashbuckling around the neighborhood, planting Ohio prairie gardens in urban landscapes, and reducing her carbon footprint by cycling and recycling.
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