Open letter to the neighbors, 19 Feb 2010.

printed on the back inside empty page of one of my cards, and mailed to the family across the street.

One day, after not having been here long,  ran into the neighbor at a store.

Asked him how much he would charge to mow my lawn, and he just mowed it for free, and has been, for a year or more.

Seems they had seen me struggling to mow it myself.  Following letter is self explanatory.

    Hello, I am Paul Phillips and I live across the street. First, let me say thank you for mowing my lawn without me asking you to, all this time. Second, let me say that this letter is prompted by a “depression” group I attending for four weeks, one hour a week, at the VA clinic in Winston Salem.
 

    While talking there with others, one man asked me why I did not reach out to other people, with what has been going on in my life. I would like to get to know more people in the area, and I have several problems I could use some help with.
 

    First, my health. When I moved in here, I could barely get in and out of the bathtub. Having inherited a little money, I have not had to work. That money is about run out, but fortunately, my health has improved greatly. I am still not fully fit, but am not stuck laying down all the time, any more.
 

    You might ask what was wrong with me, but I do not know, exactly. The VA has set me up with blood pressure medicine, and recently discovered I am a diabetic, if a mild one. They have thoroughly checked me out, at no cost to me, because I was in the Army during the Vietnam Era, and presently have no income.
 

    As you may have realized, I can barely get around on my own, but that seems to be improving since the blood-sugar medicine was started. Formerly, I could only work for a short period, and then had to sit down, sometimes for a whole day.
 

    That brings up another area where I need help. I am about unable to make the rent any longer, and need to find some kind of minor work I might do. Perhaps you know of a church that needs a caretaker, or someone who has a store that needs a clerk. I am not sure how long I can do anything, but I must find some income, somewhere. I was a carpenter for thirty years, but am unable to do that. What I need is some kind of work I can do, for someone who may have to realize I am not that strong, yet.
 

    I used to be very strong, and usually build up quickly. One of the things I have worked on is my card business, when able. Problem with that is that I have only sold about a dozen cards, in a year or more. People don’t seem to have a lot of money for such things, now. The cards are expensive, and individually made by me on my own printer from my own photographs. They are a finely made item, and everybody likes them, but few buy them. I set up the business from some of the money inherited from my mother, but it has not yet done well. Maybe you know someone who has a store who might allow me to display my cards.
 

    I almost hate to be asking for all this help, and talking about my troubles. Only thing I don’t know what else to do, or I may wind up homeless. That will make a man swallow his pride.
 

    I am on food stamps, but they are giving me trouble because someone reported that I had a cash-only business, and the social services think I have not been reporting income. To begin with, the business is not cash only, and neither the internet site or my few efforts at selling has given me more than about one-hundred dollars in income in two years.
 

    I would like to get to know you, and fellowship with you, and needed to reach out to the community, and this letter is a start. I chose a letter, because I sometimes get emotional talking about the last few years.
 

    Seems I thought I might be dead, by now, a couple of years ago. I am happy that I am not, and am recovering, but realize I probably wont’ get back on my feet, by myself. Besides, I miss people, having been by myself almost entirely the past four years.
 

    I mentioned a depression group. Not sure whether I had depression, I talked about it to my VA doctor, and they put me in a group that discusses such matters. Gaining 71 pounds in the last couple of years, and trying to cope with not working, and not sure about health, kind of depressed me. Apparently, even so, I have a mild case of depression, and the group meetings have helped me. Last week one person asked me why I had not reached out to other people, and there was no answer. I hope I haven’t bothered you with this.
 

    What impressed me about you is that you have mowed my lawn, at your own volunteering, without even knowing me, for over a year. I have observed that you wish to be friendly to me, but I have not responded well, at all. I apologize. Let me close for now. Paul Phillips