When we moved into our new home a year ago, the first person to welcome us to the neighborhood was Dan, the man that lived next door. His yard was filled with nick-nacks and there was a giant peace sign that illuminated the street at night. He always wore a smile on his face and waved every time he took his dog (Sun dance) out for a walk.
When the wind picked up, as it usually did down our valley, you could hear a low hum from his yard. It was the sound of several homemade wind chimes, the tallest being over 20 feet. We found out that it made such a loud noise that the other neighbors complained and he was only allowed to let it ring on Sundays.
Sadly, Dan passed away about six months after we moved in. His brother was forced to sell everything in the house, but for some reason, one wind chime was left, unclaimed by the person who promised to buy it.
One weekend, I had some cash in my pocket and sent my husband next door to negotiate with the brother for the wind chime. He was hard up on cash and sold us the twelve foot monstrosity. We cleaned it up and hung it high in the tree in the back yard.
Every time I hear its low chime, I'm reminded of the kindest neighbor we could have asked for. His legacy will live on in our little valley. R. I. P. Dan...