I live in an old two-story home in Newark. My neighbors are mostly retired people with perfect front yards. One of the retirees, Joe Perez, lives on the corner. Because of our time together last summer, he and I have built a special relationship. At the start of the summer, Joe and I didn't hit it off too well. He was very picky about his yard. Every morning he was doing something to make the lawn look better. If we goofed around and stepped on his grass, Joe would yell at us from his front porch. Through mid-July his yard was perfect, but then I noticed some changes. I didn't see Joe outside as much. His grass was getting brown and shaggy, and some weeds were growing in his flower beds.

It wasn't like Joe to let things go. I didn't dwell on it, but when I walked by his place, I wondered why he wasn't taking care of his yard. One day I was sitting on the curb waiting for one of my buddies to show up, when Joe came out on the porch. I expected him to yell at me for sitting on his grass. Instead, he swayed back and forth. Then he fell down! I ran to my house and dialed 911. "My neighbor, Mr. Perez, just passed out! He lives on the corner of Garden and Mills," I blurted. Then I hurried back to the porch to see what I could do. Joe was awake, but he was white as a ghost. He stared blankly at me. "W-what happened to me?" he mumbled. "You passed out, Mr. Perez," I said, trying to catch my breath. "But help is on its way."