Fred Rogers’ neighborhood has nothing on Fred Wingo’s

Fred Wingo was my next-door neighbor for 12 years (1994-2006) in Charlotte, N.C. This morning, I rode through the old neighborhood – the once-fledgling trees now creating a canopy over the street – and noticed the garage door was open and the chair in which he spent many an early evening waving at neighbors was sitting in its usual spot from a decade-and-a-half ago. So I knocked on the door …

Much to my pleasant surprise – given that he was already of senior age back then – Fred (FRED!) answered the door.??I have not seen him since we moved away 15 years ago. Given how active he was with his yardwork, I always underestimated his age. So when he advised me today that he is 102 years old – born on 9-19-19 – I was floored. But during our conversation, that was not the only revelation that blew me away. Back in the day, his age belied him. He was always outdoors, either mowing grass, planting trees or shrubs, trimming bushes, piddling, or just waving hello – often shirtless. I figured he was in his mid-to-late ’60s then, but I learned today that I was off by more than a decade. When I asked him if he still works in the yard, he answered that, yes, he still trims the bushes, but he gave up cutting the grass himself JUST LAST YEAR – at age 101.

Fred was the neighbor everyone wants to have. Peripherally present. There if you need him. Never prying, just plying. Never meddling, just moiling. Never infringing, just inviting.

He was Steady Freddie.

Just looking after his domain, as a retired person should do. And keeping a watchful eye on the neighborhood, making sure everything was in order and everyone was OK. And always there with a friendly smile and a hearty wave.

Occasionally, he would see me, a horticultural novice, in my yard and would offer advice. Here’s how to get rid of that Bermuda grass, he would say. Your grass won’t take root well if you overseed, he might add. That shrub is better in the half-shade, he would gently advise.

And I appreciated all of his guidance.

His passion was his yard, and he would often pull in with a truckload of plants, shrubs and/or trees from Lowe’s or Home Depot. One time, he hauled in a Japanese Maple (not cheap) that he decided wouldn’t “fit” in the backyard tableau he was painting, so he gave it to me and wouldn’t accept a penny. And that beautiful burgundy tree brought many days of colorful joy to Rhonda and me through the window or from the deck, even in the gray of wintertime.

I didn’t know then, but I know now that Fred Rogers’ neighborhood has nothing on Fred Wingo’s neighborhood.

I was awe-inspired to learn not only of Fred’s?centenarian?status, but also that he still is able to piddle in his yard. But I was thoroughly blown away to find out that he rides his stationary bicycle 10 to 20 miles A DAY. That’s demanding even for someone half his age, including me, but he said that is an important part of his daily routine that he credits for his longevity. I told him he was blessed, and he agreed – wholeheartedly – with a smile.

Fred and his now-deceased wife moved to Charlotte from Jacksonville, Fla., in 1994 to be close to their daughter, who lives a stone’s throw away across Providence Road. She’s getting ready to retire, he told me today. I remembered that he had retired as a barber, so I asked him about that. “Oh, yeah, I cut hair for 40 years,” he replied. “I guess I cut about 300,000 heads of hair in my career.”

I told him I’m not a mathematician, so I would take his word for it. “Yes, I did about 40 haircuts a day, or almost 200 haircuts a week,” he said. “I was faster than the other guys I hired, so they called me ‘Fast Freddie,’" he added with grin that would make Floyd the Barber blush.

He informed me that he once had a chance to cut Elvis’s now-famous pompadour hair, but didn’t do it. “Back then, Elvis wasn’t as big as he would become,” he told me. “I didn’t really know much about him. He was coming to Jacksonville and about three of his men came in and asked if I knew how to cut hair like Elvis’s. I told them I can do any kind of hair, but I was so busy, I didn’t have time to work in anybody else that day. So they told me they would let me know. But they never did. After that, the newspaper came in and interviewed me for an article because I didn’t cut Elvis’s hair. I just cleaned out some of my belongings and gave that article to my daughter.”

Whether trimming hair or trimming bushes, Fred always seemed like a perfectionist who never overextended himself.

Sitting beside his Bible on the coffee table was an iPhone, so I had to ask him about that. “Oh, yeah, I’ve learned how to use it and I can’t be without it now,” he said. “I take it with me everywhere. I can do basic things with it like making calls and looking up things on the internet, but I’m amazed at how fast the kids are able to do everything with it.”

Our conversation led into a discussion about his military service. He told me about going to the U.S. Navy recruiting office first, then the Coast Guard office as World War II as beginning to spread beyond Europe. He decided on the latter. He never saw combat action, but he did important work watching over the ports of New York and then being stationed in Charleston, S.C., and working at sea on a?Treasury-class Coast Guard cutter warship.

So I learned a lot today about an old friend and one of our remaining members of the Greatest Generation. I was inspired enough tonight to share a snippet of Fred Wingo’s life. I learned that age is nothing but a number, and we should take a moment to salute the brave men and women who volunteered to fight for our freedom at that pivotal moment in time.?

And, today, I appreciate even more so that, like a good neighbor, Fred Wingo was there – for me, as a new homeowner, and more importantly, for our country, as a beacon of hope for the world. Thank you, Fred.