Neighborhood bond forms around traveling stuffed resident

Since April, the antics of a green frog hip-hopping from one lily pad to another have turned an already tightknit neighborhood into one big, happy pond.

Neighbors on South Jesse James Court never know where they might find the stuffed animal known as Froggie or HippetyHop when they wake in the morning — stretched out in a chair, stuffed into a basketball hoop or regretting a night of minor-league debauchery.

What they do know is that Froggie and his predecessors have shown that it takes a neighborhood to pull off a series of pranks and draw longtime residents and newcomers together.

“Communication in general anymore — people don’t talk to each other. In our neighborhood, that’s not the case,” said Laurie Knutson, who has lived on Jesse James Court for 18 years.

“We stop and visit with each other, we greet each other from across the street, we pay attention to each other’s kids from a safety standpoint. It’s not just our house but the whole neighborhood.”

Sherena Kost and her husband, Russ, moved onto the horseshoe-shaped street 29 years ago, only the second family to reside in a house that was built in 1988. At one point, they installed a basketball court for their son, who now is 29 and has children of his own.

Now, the basketball court is used by a neighbor’s child. Earlier this summer, the Kosts rummaged around and found an old light once used to illuminate the court after sunset. They plugged it in, unsure if it would even work after all these years.

It did, and their young neighbor was thrilled.

“He looked at me and said, ‘We can definitely use that,’” Kost recalled with a delighted laugh.

The Kosts and Knutson and her husband, Todd, live side by side, all empty nesters now. It was the Knutsons’ daughter Carly, now a resident of the Twin Cities, who inadvertently created what has become a neighborhood staple, an oversized stuffed animal who roams after dark, finding a new place to stay for weeks at a time.

It was February 2018, and Knutson was hoping to rid her house of a large pink bear that a former boyfriend had presented to Carly.

“It was of those big fair bears you never want your kid to win, and she had it,” Knutson said. “It had the start of a little rip on its head. Todd was like, ‘just take it over to Russ and Sherena’s, and put it on their front porch.’”

The Knutsons and Kosts had been pranking each other for years. When the Kosts stepped outside, they knew who the culprits were.

“I came out and saw it and said, ‘Oh, it’s on,’” Kost recalled.

From there, the bear began making the rounds. It had tape put on its paws, then was stuck against a neighbor’s window to amuse the children. He was tied with a bungee-cord to another neighbor’s tree. When they returned from vacation, they saw the sign that accompanied the display: “Bear for sale, house is free.”

The bear would appear inside cars whose owners had left the doors unlocked. It rode along in the back of pickups, snuggled among the tools.

Eventually, the bear’s rip stretched to an unseemly length, and several snows made it soggy. A sign announced the bear was going into hibernation, but other animals have taken its place.

One of the most popular: a large stuffed gorilla. Kost and Knutson can’t remember how he arrived, but families would gather around the cuddly beast and pose for portraits. It was invited for dinner and caught sliding down banisters.

Since Froggie’s first appearance in April, it has started putting on various pieces of clothing, and puns have abounded. In one case, it was announced that an ailing Froggie was in hop-sital.

Smuggling the frog from house to house means plenty of late-night or early morning forays, which is part of the fun, the women say. Neighbors with large picture windows have caused the most difficulties, but no one has emerged toad-ally frog-free.

Froggie may be the most visible sign of a united neighborhood, but the spirit of South Jesse James Court shows up year-round. A neighborhood Facebook page keeps people in touch, helping organize rummage sales and get-togethers.

Knutson and Kost identify resident Phil Westra as the neighborhood’s unofficial mayor. When neighbor Donn Grinager teased on Facebook that Westra never grilled two hot dogs at a time but two packages, it led to a neighborhood cookout.

Another Jesse James Court tradition is a Fourth of July celebration, and pre-COVID progressive dinners were held. Neighbors traveled from house to house to sample appetizers, soups and salads, entrees and desserts.

The neighborhood has gathered to serve meals at The Banquet, but its greatest service may be to its children, both past and present. Budding entrepreneurs find a ready-made base of customers, and the kids reach out to each other, with one family’s young daughters hosting an ice cream social at the end of the school year.

Kost has 20-year-old photos of the neighborhood’s kids gathered in front of her house on the first day of school. Children who grew up on Jesse James Court hope to replicate the experience in their own neighborhoods as they start their families, Knutson said.

“Our daughter lives in Minneapolis … and when she first brought him (her boyfriend) home, he was under the impression she lived in a commune, just the way she talked about it,” Kost said. “He got here and said, ‘It’s just a regular neighborhood.’”

But it’s a neighborhood where an open garage door means “I’m home. Stop by for a visit.” It’s a neighborhood where surplus produce is left for anyone to take.

It’s a neighborhood where when a fleet of bicycles are parked outside a house, you know your child is safe and likely being given a snack. It’s a neighborhood where people move away to live elsewhere in Sioux Falls, then return after four or five years when given the chance to buy a different house.

“It is a treasure, it is an absolute treasure to live here,” Kost said.