When I bought my house four and half years ago, many Chestnut Hill residents had the same reaction. “You live next to George Spaeth – the man’s a genius.”  Before I met George, I crowd-sourced the following information: He is a world-famous ophthalmologist. He played soccer at Yale. He is an incredible musician and a patron of the arts. 

His wife, Ann, who passed away a few years prior, was a dedicated member of the Chestnut Hill Historical Society. Ann would have loved my girls. While I can’t verify that she would have loved my girls’ loudly playing in our backyard, it seems consistent with everything I’d learned about her, and the rest of the information is correct. 

However, the Chestnut Hill legends about George Spaeth omitted a small but essential fact – George is a true gentleman. This time of year, when we’re reflecting on the things for which we are most grateful, I find myself often thinking about George and his relationship with my girls.

We returned to Chestnut Hill in late 2019 with an elementary schooler, a preschooler, and a newborn. I say returned because I was born at Chestnut Hill Hospital and lived on East Meade as a child. However, our homecoming was marked by the coronavirus pandemic. 

I can’t remember how it started, but my oldest daughter, then 6, and George and his daughter, Kristin, who was staying with him, became pen pals of sorts. Louisa shared her favorite poem with them in a note and they responded in kind as one of the poem’s characters. We yelled over the fence to each other while Susanna fed George’s dog, Willi, treats. One of Julia David’s first words was “Willi.” 

Afraid that George was going to spend his birthday during COVID alone, Louisa helped organize a street-wide outdoor birthday party for George. I’ll never forget watching her pull her RadioFlyer wagon down the sidewalk loaded with a cake and bottles of George’s favorite pilsners and champagne. 

George really knows the girls and feeds their interests. He combs through his vast collection of children’s books and gifts them some of his finds. After they exchanged notes on favorite books, George gave Louisa Ann’s copy of Heidi. He knows about Susanna’s love of all things magical and found a first edition of The Polar Express. He has kicked a soccer ball around with Julia David. George delights in asking the girls to perform a trick for their Halloween candy and they prepare all October to recite poetry or sing songs for which he rewards them with a hearty round of applause, a gingersnap, and an apple. They love baking him treats, helping to shovel his snow, and collecting his mail when he is away. They still write notes, George always in his trademark blue pen on beautiful notecards. 

Last Christmas, the girls worked together to adapt one of their favorite books into a play for him. They wrote a script and took pictures of each scene which I helped them bind into a book. They have grand plans to create this year’s gift. In return, George just called me to ask if he could give them an illustrated book on the life of Jesus that Ann collected many years ago. 

In short, despite eight decades separating them, George has become one of my girls’ most important friendships. 

There are very few places where a true friendship between children and the elderly can organically grow, but Chestnut Hill is one of those places. Our investment in getting to know each other means that we are more than a geographic designation, we are a neighborhood and George Spaeth epitomizes what it means to be a good neighbor. 

Diana H. Rodgers

Chestnut Hill