Old Friends

(September 2007)

There was a song called Old Friends, written by Paul Simon. It was a haunting melody and although the words were more suited to old people in the inner city, the images fit the feeling of loneliness often associated with old age.

The song tells of two old friends that sit on a park bench like bookends. They sit there in all weather pondering the sights and sounds of old age. Simon and Garfunkle end the song imagining themselves ending up that way and singing the words, “How terribly strange to be seventy”. It doesn’t have to be as bleak as that song makes it seem.

Many of you reading this are young and rarely are around the elderly. Many of you are 55 and older and considering retiring, perhaps to one of the many communities for 55 and older. Either way, being around “old folks” may be new and somewhat odd.

Then there are old guys like me who have always been around “old folks” since I was a kid; I’m used to it. I even worked in geriatrics at a large hospital at one time. Being around old people can be fun when you see it from a certain point of view. Here’s what I mean.

When my father was still alive, he was mowing the lawn one day and when he was finished he put the mower by the curb for anyone who wanted it. He was really done cutting grass. Within a very short time my parents had moved from their home in Lawton, Michigan and moved to a place called Miller Court, in Paw Paw, which was for 55 and older.

Miller Court was an apartment complex on a river and it offered a lot of amenities that appealed to “old Folks”. Those amenities meant nothing to my mother at first but in time she adjusted to the place as well, if not better than my father. One amenity not listed in the brochure was the friendships that would develop.

My father still went fishing with his old buddy in Lawton; that was only a 10 minute drive after all. However, he found an old diner he eventually made part of his daily routine. Another “regular” at the diner was a former baseball player who had been in the Negro League and was also on the Chicago White Sox. They hit it off like they had known each other all their lives.

He also liked to walk everywhere as much as possible and in time everyone in town knew him; even high school kids would stop and talk with him on his favorite park bench.

I was lucky enough to walk around with him. The funniest thing was to see how the “old guy” could spot wild berries growing along the river. On one walk he three different types of berries though they were gone by the time we got back home. Not bad for an old blue collar worker from the city.

He still drove during those years but keeping a car running could be a problem. However, the local service station was run by an “old guy” just like him and they became good friends. Good friends look out for each other and they did just that while they sat on the bench in front of the store talking about things that mattered; the Depression and WWII and growing up broke and somehow having a good life in their waning years.

The glory of young men [is] their strength: and the beauty of old men [is] the gray head.
Proverbs 20:29

My mother hadn’t walked well for years and was afraid she would never get out, being cooped up in an apartment. The thing she didn’t count on was the fact that every one in that building knew each other and to her surprise and delight the ladies never let her just sit around.

She went on more trips with her friends than she ever would have living in Lawton. Miller Court had an arrangement with a tour bus company that had busses that accommodated handicapped people so they kept her very active.

I met her friends as well. The lady in the next apartment was a real fireball. When she turned eighty, she bought her first computer, mostly for the internet and games. She would send me emails often with all the “news” that was at all important and she always asked me if I was behaving myself. Of course I told her I wasn’t and let her know all the details.

Another of her friends was the daughter of the man who invented the Browning automatic rifle, or BAR as the military called it. I used to love to hear her stories of her family as much as she liked having someone new to tell them to.

She had a friend in another part of the building that grew up in the Pullman homes in Chicago. Her father worked for the company that made the famous Pullman train cars. However, it was her point of view of life in the Pullman neighborhood that fascinated me.

Every one of their friends knew me because whenever my wife and I would go to visit my parents, we couldn’t just visit them. It was never a trip to Michigan to see the “old folks”; it was a trip to Miller Court and all that entailed; visiting “old Friends” and getting lessons on living life fully instead of just growing old.

I know there were bad times there. As they got older there would be falls to contend with or illnesses and eventually, they all passed on but they will never be forgotten. They opened up to anyone who would listen and anyone would did listen with an open mind would be truly amazed at how much they had to give.

They were an inspiration to me with their insights and backgrounds and I learned to savor my time here. Forget having it be “terribly strange to seventy”. Whether or not I live that long doesn’t matter; those “old folks” were truly my “Old Friends”.

We “Baby Boomers” are now the “Miller Court” type of people. Learn to open up to anyone who will listen. You may think you have nothing to pass on but when you think of the history we lived through those that listen will be amazed and we just might make our own “Old Friends” along the way.

There is no cure for birth and death, save to enjoy the interval.
George Santayana,
US (Spanish-born) philosopher (1863 - 1952)

The unexamined life is not worth living.
Socrates,
Greek philosopher in Athens (469 BC - 399 BC)