Bob and Van

For the first half of my childhood in suburban Ohio, we lived next to Bob. Bob and his wife were a kind, reserved older couple who decorated their home mostly with crucifixes and talked about Jesus a lot. Bob helped my mom with a lot of common household tasks after my dad died. When she woke up to a small fire on our deck, she didn’t call the fire department — she called Bob.1 I never learned any of Bob’s political views, though I can make some guesses in retrospect. They never mattered. He was just our neighbor. We later moved, and hit the neighbor jackpot with Van. Van was deeply kind, generous, and friendly — the sort of neighbor everyone wishes for. In my lazy teenage years, he’d often mow our lawn or shovel our snow for us before I even woke up. As his mobility later declined, I was honored to return the favor. Van and his delightful wife passed away years ago, before I learned how either of them felt on any political issue. If they were my neighbors today, how likely would that…