The stars seemed to align when I moved into the old farmhouse apartment owned by my soon-to-be ‘adopted Dad.’ The apartment connected to his home through a stairwell that led to the upstairs. It contained an old wood stove which he kept burning for me while I worked and eventually went to school. I chuckle as I recall how I often asked him to not keep it quite so hot. I would arrive home to find melted candles and a panting cat.

Days were filled with adventures, and we shared stories over homemade jelly from the strawberry patch or a fresh meal made from vegetables in the garden. We shared evening drinks while sitting on the porch in comfortable rocking chairs. Mr. Radway encouraged me to try my hand at gardening. This was something that made us laugh long into the future. I later learned that tomato seeds were not supposed to be sprinkled, but individually placed in the rows so that they could have enough space to properly bloom. We ended up overturning the mass of tomato vines to eliminate the fear of rats when it was harvesting time.

I was a working girl but decided to change careers and attend a local university. My goal of becoming a teacher was met with challenges – many were financial. My grandmother encouraged me to finish, because she herself had not finished teacher school and chose to raise a family instead. The school was only a short distance from the farmhouse, but the weather in Upstate New York was never predictable. The snow tended to reach the grill of my car and temperatures were often as low as 40 degrees below zero. Ice storms made the trees look like props from a fairy tale. Thanks to Mr. Radyway, I learned about plugging my car in to keep the engine warm. Country mice chose to climb into the air filter for warmth and certainly made car rides interesting.

Mr. Radway was always there to lend a helping hand. He was retired and faithfully visited lifelong friends to assist in any way needed. Many of his prior co-workers often teased him about his “college roomie”, and he chuckled as he would tell me about these encounters. He enjoyed knowing he had them wondering what he was up to. Gardening, hunting, and auctions consumed most of Mr. Radway’s time, and he had fields filled with raspberries, strawberries, corn, beans, squash, zucchini and other treasures. He often disappeared for hours on end to the woods to sit and wait for the best shot at the deer. The deer stand he had built held his weight and kept him protected from the elements.

The auctions with Mr. Radway became a fun outing we shared on Saturday afternoons and I enjoyed watching his confidence as he chose to either continue bidding or decline the skyrocketing prices of the antiques. My apprehension rose the first time I attended one. I raised my hand out of excitement, and the auctioneer yelled, “$100” in response. I quickly learned to sit on my hands while attending these events.

No matter the adventure, Mr. Radway and I found great joy in each other’s company. He is now gone, but the memories are treasured and will not be forgotten. We filled a void in each other’s life for a brief time. The day he was driven away from his lifelong home, the car’s brake lights were spotted in the distance. We later learned that two large deer had stopped the car, stood staring at the car for a long time, as if to say, “Goodbye ole friend.”