Within ten days after somewhat settling in to our new place, Karen and I realized that the "moors" of which Joe spoke, actually were the "Moore's" who were our next door neighbors.
Even the crew unloading the van seemed to enjoy the entertainment and it helped the time seem to go faster. Except, there was an unexpected "twist." After every two or three bars he would stop and yell out, "Stay away from the moors! Stay away from the moors!" Some of the neighbors stepped out on their porches just to see what was going on now. The day the moving van arrived, there he was, out on his porch wearing that plaid kilt, bagpipes clutched against his chest. He didn't stop there never ceasing to take advantage to publicly play that over-sized vacuum bag, he would often welcome newborn children, puppies, kittens, etc. At least that's what it was supposed to be, but with bagpipes, how does anyone really know. Every new years eve, at the stroke of midnight, he would appear on his front porch dressed in his kilt, with his bagpipes, heralding in the coming year with supposedly, But, there is always one, whose antics over time, become legendary. The majority of the residents, like my in-laws, had been there from its inception, which made the move easier, for we knew most of them. Now the neighborhood was a long- established residential area. However, the owners decided to rent it to us, with an offer no sane person could refuse. A house which just happened to be next door to her parents was going up for sale. In August, 1977, My wife, Karen, and son Russ, moved back to Texas after eight years of being away.
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