Why a Free Basketball Hoop is worth everything.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

I don’t know about you, but whenever I have a new need for something, especially if that something is for my kids to use, I check the free pages or marketplaces first before buying new. Sure there’s the bonus of saving money, but the main reason I do this is to keep things out of landfills. Why buy something new when a perfectly good version of the thing I need is just sitting in someone’s yard/garage/basement waiting to be tossed out?

After getting off Facebook, I lost my ability to query the local free pages when we wanted to get our son a basketball hoop. He was taking the game more seriously and wanted to work on his skills. Since I was still on Instagram, I posted to my stories asking if anyone had an old basketball hoop they no longer needed. To our delight, a client said, “We do! Come get it!” And so we made plans to pick it up when my husband was back from a work trip.

While I have since heard from others that a NEW basketball hoop is also an enormous hassle to setup, the “downside” of grabbing a used one was that it was NOT easy to transplant. The hoop we inherited was at least 20 years old and the previous owners had filled the base with sand. Over time, cracks got into the base so it was now an unmovable brick of 20 years of sand and rainwater. When Navy (husband) and I pulled into our clients’ driveway, I wondered if maybe this wasn’t going to work. But the lovely husband and wife clients helped and the four of us managed to get this monstrosity into our van after some good old fashioned teamwork and oomph.

Yes; you read that right. Our van. As in, our mini-van. This hoop was old and rusted together so there was no taking it apart. So an 11 foot massive basketball hoop was hanging out of the back of our van while the base sat inside, depositing sandy rainwater all over the tarp we had thankfully laid out underneath it.

Thankfully, my clients live very close to us, so we only had a short distance to cover. Navy sat in the back with the base in case anything happened on the drive (Though what he’d be able to do I was completely unsure of as this thing was heavy and unsteady), and my dear client drove behind us with the sheet of plywood we used to get the damn thing in because we’d also need it to get the damn thing out. I drove at a speed of less than 5mph and took the slowest turns imaginable. And we made it home. Phew!

But we still had to get the thing out and this proved just as much a comedy of errors. Navy almost lost a foot but we all survived and put the hoop in place. It was immediately put to use and we have ALL clocked some time out in the driveway goofing off with a basketball, as well as many of my son’s friends. This alone makes the hoop priceless. But there is so much more to the story.

You see, when Navy and I went to pickup the hoop, we assumed it would be like many of the other situations where we’ve picked something large up from a home; we do the heavy work and manage the thing ourselves. This is of course fine; we are, after all, getting whatever it is for free and that’s magical. But this time, it was different. For anyone who knows these clients, this comes as absolutely no surprise whatsoever, but they were not only helpful through the entire debacle process, but full of joy, humor, and kindness. It was a really difficult endeavor and yet it feels like such a happy memory because something that felt like it was long lost had reappeared - the sense neighborliness. Feeling this was startlingly warm; it’s like a mythological creature we’d only heard about in bedtime stories had come alive and saved the day.

I grew up in a very neighborly part of Boston. We all knew each other, and I knew if I needed help as a kid walking to school or just around town, I could easily find it. As a matter of fact, when I started walking to school alone, it was my routine to wave at three or four neighbors looking out their project windows waiting for me to walk by and confirm I was alright. If we needed something and didn’t have it, we could ask any number of neighbors to fill in the blanks, and when I was old enough to be home with my little sister alone, we could run two doors down to take shelter from whatever goblin I made up in my own head and freaked myself out about.

When we moved out of Boston, our home was no longer attached to others on either side. We connected with a few neighbors, but not everyone. My family still lives in the house we moved to, as do one of the nextdoor neighbors. This move was 27 years ago and in my time living there AND visiting, I have never laid eyes on the folks who live nextdoor. Couldn’t pick them out of a crowd. No idea who they are.

Through my time in apartments in NYC, Weymouth, and Quincy, it was the same. No connections. All just ships passing in the night. The only exception to this rule was when I lived in Dublin and that was because it was more of a communal living experience for my postgrad campus life. But even then I knew a lot of the neighborhood folks because I managed a coffee shop in the area. There, that neighborhood feeling was back.

When Navy and I moved into our house 14 years ago, I made treats and we walked around to all the neighbors introducing ourselves. Everyone was kind, but they all said the same thing: “Thank you! But isn’t it usually that WE are supposed to drop off the welcome treats?!” Well, sure, but no one ever did and we wanted to establish connections. After 14 years and only one family moving out/in in the area, those connections never thrived other than a little conversation here and there, and waves as we drive by. We do have one next door neighbor that leaves our kids little goodie bags for each holiday, which is incredibly lovely. But that’s about it.

I know we’re not alone in this. I think we all have our own friendships and communities out there in the world and then in our phones, so we don’t make an effort/have time to cultivate ones with the folks who live closest to us. And don’t get me wrong; if there is an emergency, I believe any one of our neighbors would help and we would help them. But that’s about as far as it extends. I’ve talked to lots of folks and most of the time they are all in the same boat, unless they hit the jackpot and have one of those neighbors/neighborhoods where they’re full-on friends and hang out often.

Please understand this is not a complaint; it’s an observation. And an important one to note when comparing it to the absolute joy of picking up this cumbersome basketball hoop. These clients not only offered to give us their hoop, they helped us load it which was NOT easy, followed us down the road to help keep everyone/everything safe, and then helped us set it up at our house. And most importantly, they did this with joy. With laughter. With kindness. It reminded me completely of my childhood in Boston. The experience felt like a warm hug.

Right now the US feels like it’s on fire. Everyone is afraid (rightfully so) and doesn’t know what to do. I think the first thing we need to do is walk outside and extend a handshake/helping hand/kind word with those directly around us. Not through the internet. Not through holiday cards. Face to face. And then we’ll be reminded of humanity, and of hope.

Every time I look at that basketball hoop, old and warn as it is, I smile. It’s so much more than a basketball hoop.

-Kerry

What I loved this week:

• OK I loved everything about this and I am perfectly fine admitting how EXTREMELY JEALOUS I am of this photographer. However, I know I’d never have kept my cool so it’s probably a good thing it didn’t happen to me. *gifted article so no paywall.

• Take photos. And then print your photos. They may end up the only thing you have left.

• Chris McKenna
  shared this letter from a mom to her daughter about smartphone use. It’s a delightful change from the heavy phone contracts we often see (and I admit, we even made our daughter sign when she got hers).

• In related news, I’m often asked about what phone interface we use since my daughter has a very locked up phone situation. We wanted her to have the ability to listen to music and audiobooks, to have GPS, and to call and text approved numbers. We as parents needed to be able to monitor everything, and she was not to have access to social media or the internet. We found Pinwheel and we LOVE it. I can decide what apps she can use and so it can grow with her as she needs more/grows up. Her phone is on a schedule so it’s completely inaccessible at times, and often to unlock it she needs to check off that she’s done whatever she needs to do that day. It’s a big win for us because it meets us where we need it to. Highly recommend (and no; I don’t get any money for this; they don’t even know I’m writing about it).

• Jill Hinton Wolfe
  wrote about 5 tiny outdoor habits that re-wire your brain and they aren’t as unattainable as these lists so often can be. I can absolutely add some of these to my daily routine and know they’ll make a big difference.

• Oh how I loved this piece by

  Sarah Ann Saeger
  . Just go read it. That’s all. #4 was particularly helpful to me.

• It’s National Library week and

  Christine Koh
  has given us some great reasons why libraries are the best and how we can support them. DEFINITELY make sure your do #2. As for my own library week celebration, I’ve got one book on loan now, and just received another email saying I’ve got two to pickup! I love our library and our librarians. Fun fact: the delightful client/neighbor in my story above is the beloved children’s librarian in our town. She is the loveliest person. Librarians are magic.