“I don’t mind not being cool; I wear a cardigan.”
Remember lunch in your high school cafeteria? The jocks sat at one table in their letterman jackets. The brainy kids sat together. The misfits. The nerds. Maybe there was that one kid who sat alone every day. At Webb, my friends and I often skipped lunch to sunbathe behind the Upper School, subsisting on Tab and naval oranges. There’s always a pecking order and people gravitate to their own tribes, either by choice or by necessity.
I don’t like to go to the dining room at the Old Folks Home. The walker jungle depresses me. The servers are kind but slow as molasses, because no one has anywhere to be after meals. Except for dinner when the residents are herded out like cattle, so the staff can close up for the night.
It’s only been a couple of years, but the faces that have disappeared haunt me in absentia. Where are Walter Pulliam and his wife Julia, the Belle of Monteagle? Walter’s dead, of course. And Julia’s in exile at a nursing home in Atlanta, from which she frequently escapes. Where is Bee DeSelm, the well-read retired county commissioner? Assisted Living. Jack Van Hooser, Harvard-educated Episcopal priest and missionary to Brazil? No longer with us, may he rest in peace.
And Gmamma, my beautiful mother, DooDaddy’s twin self. Gone to Heaven. No more grilled cheese sandwiches and moose tracks ice cream. Maybe that’s the real reason I avoid the dining room.
Then there’s DooDaddy’s friend, Ron. His mind is sharp. He’s an accomplished bridge player. But he suffers from a debilitating affliction that causes him to choke on his food. He has a hard time at meals. So some of the residents avoid sitting with him. DooDaddy is loyal and always saves Ron a seat. And Ron is still a member of the Bad Boys Breakfast Bunch.
But the “popular” geezers shun Ron. And because his politics don’t match theirs, these cool kids don’t sit with DooDaddy either. They are likeminded in their opinions and seemingly uninterested in views that don’t match their own.
“You watch Fox News, I suppose,” observes the leader of the pack, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as he pauses to speak to DooDaddy.
“Why yes, I do,” answers DooDaddy.
What my father doesn’t say is that he watches all the channels and reads lots of different newspapers and periodicals and considers all sides of an issue before making up his mind. He is the most open-minded person I know.
But the Shannondale stud has already walked away to his table of fawning females, shaking his head at my father’s apparent intellectual inferiority. My father, the smartest man I know.
The smug geezer is the same guy who once got up in the middle of a bridge game with Julia – whose face is in the dictionary under “lovely” and “gracious” – threw his cards down and stalked off in a huff, never to return. He’s an odd bird, but he’s cock of the walk at The Home.
For some folks, old age is a regression to adolescence. Or maybe some people never grow up before they grow old.
I’d like to think by the time I’m old(er) and gray(er) and become an official geezer in my own right, that my fellow geezers and I can discuss issues with passion but without judgment. That we can agree to disagree. That we can accept each other, despite our frailties and unpleasant habits and idiosyncracies. That we will love and laugh and be grateful for companionship in whatever form it manifests. Especially at mealtime.
Wishful thinking? You bet. And I’m going to keep on wishing.
DooDaddy & Gmamma in the Shannondale dining room
There is always someone harshing your mellow in this world. Kudos to your daddy for his civility and compassion!
Excellent use of “harshing your mellow” Lizzy D 😉 XXOOO
It’s true throughout life. Just this semester, I had a student deliver a speech about how you should use your college years to get to know people who are different from you. After her speech, I walked to the front of the room and asked her if she notice anything about the class. It took her a minute, but then she finally said, “Well, now that you make me notice, I see all the girls are sitting together, and all the black students are sitting together, and all the international students are sitting together.” So perhaps your speech will make your classmates think? It made for interesting conversation that day.
Food for thought.
Go,Dad,go! You are the smartest man alive! You just happen to not flaunt it! Good luck with doing battle with your liberal buddies!! The truth will prevail! March on in your defense of the downtrodden at Shannondale.
Keeling
Amen
I love that your Dad watches all the different news channels and reads lots of newspapers and periodicals, but didn’t bother to mention his open-minded views to the Shannondale Stud. I think many people start to become more focused on one point of view as they age, but I hope I can stay as open-minded as your Dad. More power to him!
Isn’t that awesome? Doodaddy doesn’t have anything to prove. I remember when I was growing up, he traveled to NYC for business a bunch. Had a dear friend, whose parents were Holocaust survivors. Eric Askanase was a brilliant, left-wing liberal. He and my Southern conservative father were friends for decades. They loved discussing politics and world events from opposite sides of the issue and relished the opportunity to hear each other’s opinions. It was intellectually stimulating and revelatory. I treasure the few friends with whom I can talk politics without rancor or hurt feelings. DooDaddy is my role model for this mindset.
As another person named Eric Askanase, I’d love to hear more!
Hi Eric – Here is what I know about my father’s friend:
He was with an off-price clothing distributor down in the manufacturing district. On Houston (which DooDaddy says is pronounced “HOUSE-ton”) Street. His wife was named Marian. Son Robbie. Another son in the restaurant biz. Any kin to you?