Reaching New Heights with the Jankowiaks

Two of my most interesting neighbors live in the northern-most house on the east side of Maple Lane. Their home is nested tightly among mature maples and well-maintained perennial gardens. Just north of them, on an undeveloped lot, is a thick stand of trees that carefully hides their wooded lot from the busy thoroughfare that leads to Maple Lane. So tight and dense is this woods, that it not only shields their place, it also silences the sound of nearby heavy traffic.

The Jankowiak home is a striking two-story, with gracefully sloping roofs, copious glass, and a high, bright front entrance.

WAIT! I need to add something really important here. While this series of stories about my Maple Lane neighbors may sound like some boring article from Architectural Digest or People, I hasten to point out that each of the houses along our lane boasts a separate and distinguished character. Nothing about Maple Lane is same-ol'-same-ol'. Houses in the woods, beside ponds, need not be stamped out with cookie-cutters. And this is also true of the occupants of these gracious homes.

All my neighbors are authentic individuals -- talented, accomplished, and nice. Yes. They're nice. In our current busy and competitive world, nice is not always easy to find. But that's Maple Lane. And in the relative turmoil of our current world, nice is worth mentioning -- and honoring.

But as I was about to say when the truth broke in: Rick Jankowiak's a tall, imposing figure with a robust and engaging personality. Rick's bright and resilient. He has to be. He works as an administrator in Human Relations at GM. He also serves as the Chairperson of our Maple Lane Community Board. Sounds like an easy job. But it often demands patience and a smooth hand. Still, I have never seen Rick when he's not smiling.

His wife, Jan, is lovely, bright, and diminutive. Before my wife and I moved to Maple Lane from our home on a beautiful river bank, Jan served as our drug dealer. Her highly questionable occupation notwithstanding, she's a wonderfully skilled professional and a great wife and mother. A good friend, too.

Jan characterizes the late-20th century-early twenty-first century modern woman. For well over two decades, she's run a trim household, raised two wonderful sons, and worked full-time as a pharmacist. I don't quite understand how she does it all. Apparently, she is one of those oft-fabled female-wunderkind who has the broad skills and fortitude, the determination and creative energy to reach out and grasp it all. As with her husband Rick, I have never seen her without an authentic smile.

Jan and Rick have raised a really big family. I mean this literally. Their two college-age sons tower a few scant inches below seven feet. Their tall, slender, and youthful good-looks and their easy joie de vivre make me want to reach up and give them each a good slap. And I would, if they were not so likable, and if I were tall enough to reach their cheeks. They're promising young men. I don't know how they grew up to be as delightful as they are. Perhaps their world looks especially good from way up there. Perhaps their parents have worked a miracle.

No kidding. These Jankowiaks are a great family.

Of all their pleasing characteristics, one stands out: they're always doing something interesting and good that spills over, that interests, delights, and pleases their neighbors.

This brief story captures just one such instance.


One sunny Monday morning about four weeks ago, as I drove past the Jankowiak place, I noticed a large contractor's van parked in their drive. Being nosy by nature, I slowed to a crawl, but couldn't divine any sign of activity outside the house. I remembered that some years earlier the same contractor had built a nice apartment in the basement there. Enlarging, maybe changing that?

But I was busy. My errand and chore list was long. I shook my head and drove on about my business. But as days passed, I kept seeing that van, and my curiosity built. The woods was thick, the sight-lines few. Something new and exciting appeared to be brewing at the Jankowiaks. Maybe a new deck out back? Some storage closets or nifty shelves in the unfinished portion of the basement?

No sign of Rick or Jan. The boys were still at school. The curiosity was absolutely delicious.

Five days passed.

Milly came back from walking her frisky young pooch I always call Cocoa-Pups, and we met at my mailbox.

She was still stunned: "Have you seen it, Bob?"

"Seen WHAT?" I leaned forward and rubbed Cocoa's ears in avid anticipation.

"The SHED!"

I glanced absently over my shoulder at Milly's shed, standing there in the woods beside the neighborhood access-path to the pond. Nothing new there.

Milly gave me a whack on the shoulder: "Not OUR shed, Doofus! The one the Jankowiaks had built." Then a little surge of pride: "My contractor did it!"

I was puzzled: "Where'd they put it, Milly? I've been by their place twenty times this week. Walking and driving. I saw your contractor's van. Couldn't figure out what he was doing for the Jankowiaks, though."

"Out back in the woods. Wait'll you see, Bob! It's a SHED!" She made a wide sweep with both arms. Like signaling a touchdown, only much wider and higher, reaching from her knees to over her head. "Come-On! I'll show ya!"

Off we went at a quick pace, jabbering all the way. I felt all pioneery, like goin' ta see the elephant. There's nothing like a small adventure to put some skip into your step. It took less than a minute to cover the distance. We were soon trotting up the Jankowiak's driveway, traversing the narrow strip of grass that led to their back yard. The sudden sight of the gigantic building stopped us in our tracks. We stood there at least thirty seconds, just gaping.

I mused out loud: "We came to see the elephant. And there it stands. More the size of three full-grown elephants, though."

Milly laughed. I stood rooted to the ground in awe. Milly's handsome shed and my 16x16 barn would slip right inside the Jankowiak's new colossus. It loomed there, carefully tucked into the woods. A six-foot wide porch with a large overhanging roof spanned the entire front. Wide, glazed double doors and two high, three-foot-wide windows graced the front side of the shed beneath the porch overhang. Side-walls rose a full eight-feet high, vanishing somewhere back deep among the trees. The roof soared to a towering peak. The Taj Mahal flickered in my mind.

SHED? This was no measley shed. Tack some insulation into the outside walls. Add a heating plant, some partitions, running water and plumbing fixtures, and you have a more spacious and elegant home than Lincoln grew up in -- in Indiana or Kentucky. I stood there transfixed, agog.

My next thought was: Why not sub-divide this thing into apartments and generate some extra income for family trips and such? Then: Just as it is, Rick is assured comfortable living if Jan ever gets mad and runs him outa the house. Summer-time'll be a cinch.

And just my luck: I came without a bottle of champagne we could use to christen the thing. I tried to imagine the size and horse-power of the lawn tractor and multiple attachments Rick would have to buy to fill up this immense storage BUILDING.

Talk aboutcher MAN-TOYS. Rick's in for some fun-future.

Well!? Isn't that just like the Jankowiaks? They're salt-of-the-earth generous. When the rains come, they'll probably invert the whole building and offer to take us on a cruise.

I guess that's when I'll bring the champagne.


Meanwhile I'm gonna struggle to rid myself of the shame now attached to my own little brown storage barn.

But then I know. I've always known: You may keep up with the Joneses. But you got no chance with the Jankowiaks.