A while back, our wonderful neighbors across the road decided to move to the tropics – Arboles, that is. But they may have just as well moved to Panama.
Jayebird and I panicked! What kind of gnarly, criminal element would be moving in?
Randy and Eleanor Schnose, infamous brewers and one-time co-owners of the fabulous Riff Raff Brewery, had been our neighbors for many years. They are delightful lunatics and had become family. We affectionately call them “the Kids.” We were going to miss having them across the way and dreaded having new neighbors that might be, shall we say, unsavory.
Last winter, real estate agents began showing the empty house on two acres. Some of the prospective buyers looked like escapees from a funny farm. And then one day, the for sale sign was removed. Evidently the property had sold. Yikes!
We figured that there was a fifty-fifty chance that the new owner was a psychopath.
My friend Steve T called and informed me that he had just plowed the driveway at the house in question. He had met the new owner and he was actually a nice guy. “You should go over and meet him,” he prodded, as if I would never, ever get up the courage to do so on my own accord.
I told Jaye that I was venturing across the road to meet our new neighbor. She shook her head, exhaled and wished me luck.
I approached the front door with great trepidation but was greeted by a friendly fellow with a winning smile. We shook hands and he introduced himself: “Hi! I’m Tom Notto from Merlin, the Wershinton, DC aurea.” I thought to myself: what? Was it like Baltimore, Merlin? The Wershington area? I didn’t know at that moment whether or not he had a speech impediment or if that’s how those people talk up there.
He invited me into his new bachelor pad. There were workers he had hired to rip out the old carpet, clean the floors, and to paint everything in sight (including the ceiling). He planned to build a two-car garage with bedrooms, connected to the house. His enthusiasm while he explained his plans was infectious.
There was no doubt about it: the two of us had hit it off swimmingly. There was something about him that seemed so familiar. We were almost like two old chums who hadn’t seen each other for eons. It all felt comfortable from the git-go.
Tom was headed back to Maryland to finish up the last days of his position as lead carpenter with the prestigious architecture design firm, Anthony Wilder Design/Build. (Custom homes, remodeling, interiors and home repairs in MD, DC and VA.) He was retiring at the age of 62, and had finally fulfilled his dream of moving to ‘Colorful Colorado.’
Tom and I exchanged cell numbers and in a few days he drove his rental car to La Plata Airport and flew back to the hustle and bustle of the Wershington aurea. (And by the way, it’s Baltmor, Merlin.)
I called Tom several days later after his big retirement party. It seems that Anthony and Liz Wilder had offered him a job working in the comfort of his Colorado home. He was to become the Purchase/Resource Manager and new Safety Officer, manning the phone and overseeing the many jobs for the company. It was an offer he could not refuse. And as the saying goes: “If you move to Pagosa Springs, bring your own job!”
Finally Tom moved into his new home and began his idyllic life. The moving van had left and he clocked into his new remote job, a position envisioned out of necessity during the pandemic. In the meantime Jayebird, my brother Ross (who lives across our side road) and Tom had become fast friends. Even our little dog, a baby werewolf named Punky, also fell under our neighbor’s charms. Tom even announces his arrival with a special whistle that alerts Punky that her friend is on the way.
Besides being an all-around good guy and a snappy dresser, Tom is a world-class athlete. He skis, ice skates, inline skates, hikes, snow shoes and is an avid biker. He has ridden many bicycle tours across the nation and first set eyes on Pagosa Country during the Bike Tour of Colorado. The grueling tour started in Telluride through Ouray on to Durango and Pagosa, up to Creede, Lake City, Montrose, over Dallas Divide and back to Telluride. Whew! That’s a lot of pedaling, a lot of bottled water, and mucho deodorant…
Needless to say, my new outgoing friend is in good shape. But more important, he’s a real gentleman. And he’s funny as hell. He has an abundance of stories about being raised in Minnesota and moving to Maryland at the age of eight where he set about becoming Tom Notto extraordinaire. He has worked for Dr. Fauci, high-and-mighty politicians and other notable Washingtonians. One of his clients, who became his friend, was eighty-year-old Coast Guard Admiral John Fagel who seems to have left quite an impression on “Thomas.” Tom recalls looking at photos of the Admiral with a string of presidents; and admiring some of the priceless objets d’art scattered about, such as the ancient model of our planetary system built in the time of Galileo.
And then Tom’s lovely mother Dorothy and two of his pretty sisters, Jeanne and Julie, both over achievers, paid him a visit. The ladies motored in from Yuma, Arizona and came bearing gifts for their beloved Colorado wunderkind.
At first they interrogated me, giving me the ‘once over’, probably put off by my Neanderthal brow and simian mannerisms. But soon I disarmed them with my charm and good-natured repartee, numbing them into a state of serene euphoria. Henceforth we all got along splendidly, the conversation never pausing for a moment. Julie is a paralegal and Jeanne is a retired doctor. (Had she been a psychiatrist, I’m quite sure she could have made great progress with me.)
And then Tom transformed into chef Tomasito, a Cordon Bleu Italiano! He set about chopping vegetables and mushrooms, blending spices, whipping up his spicy Italian sausage and then moving to the huge grill where he does his magic. He prepared the pasta: rotini and ravioli. Then he tossed a gigantic salad and offered us a splendid wine. We almost expected him to warble a Puccini aria, but thank God he didn’t attempt that! The meal was exquisite though. Mama mia!
Yes, when moving to Pagosa bring your own job. But perhaps one should also bring his own girlfriend. According to Tom, his friend Jeff called the other day and ended the conversation by asking: “Have you gotten lucky lately?” Sadly, Tom answered no. I guess the lovelies will have to wait until he’s got more time. He’s been too busy working, getting his house in order, skiing at Wolf Creek, hiking at the damn Coyote Hill Loop. He’s out there quite a lot. In fact I’m looking for a 12-step program for addicted hikers like him. Poor guy.
Not long ago Tom ordered a fancy, powerful flashlight with all the bells and whistles. Of course, after seeing his, I had to get one. Now we signal each other at night and put on quite a light show from house to house. It’s really cool, but Jayebird calls us “a couple of fourth graders…” I guess that’s why he seemed so familiar when we first met: He’s like one of my long lost childhood friends – and I had a great childhood!
All things considered, Tom moving here has been a Godsend. He fits in perfectly. We could not have asked for a better neighbor and friend. And I’ve never met someone who is so in love with Pagosa Springs. (Well, maybe Peggy Bergon.) It’s amazing! He gets up every morning with a smile on his face and starts his job at 5:00am. (7:00am Wershington time.)
I thought that it was high time to share this wonderful person with our community.
I hope you all get to meet him. You’ll be glad you did!
DC has been a frustrated musician for over fifty years, and now has decided to become a frustrated writer. Learn more at DCDuncan.com. He’ll keep you posted.