235 East Washington

My grandparents live at 235 East Washington in Kirkwood Missouri. I grew up in the ghetto so to speak, so in my mind, for all I knew, they lived in the Land of Oz.  They have a large, historical estate in one of my favorite cities. It’s quaint and familiar and still has actual sidewalks that sprawl block after block. Because my mom was still a kid when I came along I spent a large part of my childhood there… Oh that house. I loved it. I still love it. It used to be a boarding school in the early 1900’s and it’s one of the few fixtures that hasn't become less intimidating in size as I've gotten older. Three stories and nine rooms, perfect for the nine Andress kids that resided and the thirty-plus grand-kids that would visit years later.

My grandpa was a big shot lawyer for Monsanto and held the bar in multiple states. He owned several homes so we've all been accustomed to referring to them by their address. A few months back when I visited him in the nursing home he still referenced the house at 235. It’s quirky and makes me smile. I have many stories about my adventures there. I don’t talk or share too much about my childhood because it’s sad for the most part but 235 is an exception.

The reason for all this nostalgia is that yesterday I found out Mr. Sanger passed away. He was my grandparents’ neighbor. He seemed old when I was little so I can’t imagine him in his 90’s. He was such a friendly man. He always made time to admire my epic, chalk hop-scotches that spanned the entire length of the driveway. I remember him constantly whistling. He was the first responder when my mom hit the tree and my orange, twin popsicle broke and people weren't sure if I was actually hurt or upset.

Somewhere in my mind I had come to the conclusion he was Mr. Rodgers. He had the demeanor and even the signature cardigan. I never told people this fantasy because I was certain and just assumed everyone else knew that was his alter ego, so there was no need for discussion.  For unknown reasons, Mr. Sanger never married nor had children. Apparently in his younger years, he had been a successful engineer and with no family of his own he decided to make the neighbor kids beneficiary’s of his will.

A surprising amount was left to each and as much as that moves me for his thoughtfulness it breaks my heart. How sad is it that this wonderful person didn’t have his own family? Especially given when the folks next door, the ones he endeared as family, had more than they knew what to deal with. I ‘m not sure if this post is anything beyond reminiscing… The whole thing makes me a bit blue and causes me to yearn to reconnect and start prioritizing things that should already be a priority. RIP Mr. Sanger