The other morning my wife Michelle and I were having brunch at 1 of our favorite restaurants prior to going out and doing our usual weekend errand running. We were seated in a booth and there was a booth behind me with a few senior citizens in it. When I say “senior citizens” I mean, “senior”. Since I’m 59 years old, you know they have to be getting on in age in order for me to consider them senior.
I couldn’t help overhearing parts of their conversation. Michelle noticed it, too. She caught me smiling and chuckling a few times and asked me “You heard that, right?” I’d laugh and nod in agreement. Unfortunately I caught a sentence that broke free from the rest that almost made me choke on my bacon.
“Yes, but I’m still pretty flexible,” said one of the little old ladies in the booth behind me.
This brought up some pretty disturbing mental images for me; 80 year old women in yoga pants, exercising using a stripper pole, twerking. Some may say that’s fine, that’s healthy and it’s good for people to stay active at that age. Ok, fine but you put that mental image in your head and tell me if you still feel the same.
Anyway, this brought to mind a story I had related to Michelle while we were still dating long distance. It happened when I went down to Indiana to see her. As I’ve mentioned before, the state of Wisconsin frowns upon me driving a car because of the whole “Dude, you’re blind” thing, so I usually took a bus down to see Michelle in Indiana.
This particular weekend I went down with my parents. The occasion was my soon-to-be stepdaughter’s high school graduation. My parents wanted to be there for this so I rode down to Indiana with them. We had a great time and a lovely weekend and then it was time to drive back to Milwaukee.
On the ride back to Milwaukee we stopped at a rest area, the sort that had a small restaurant within it where you could buy fast food, sodas and snacks. I needed to use the restroom, so we all got out and went in. As we entered there was a little, white-haired old lady who met us near the front door, kind of like a Wal-Mart greeter. To this day I’m not sure if this was even an official position that little old lady held there or if she just took it upon herself to greet strangers as they entered the place.
Anyway, I had hold of my Dad’s elbow as he led me in to find the men’s room. This little old lady, after greeting us with the usual small talk type of greeting, said she could show us where the men’s room was located and bobbed out ahead of us, chirping and chattering as she went. She kind of reminded me of a sparrow or some other sort of small bird, bobbing around a bench in the park.
She led us to the men’s room, chattering all the way. I released hold of my Dad’s elbow and went to open the men’s room door but found that our little old chaperone had already done this for me. I thanked her and started to walk in. She continued chattering on. For a brief horror-stricken moment I feared she may enter the men’s room with me! Fortunately I closed the door behind me and maintained my privacy.
I finished up, left the men’s room and walked out with my parents. They wanted to get some snacks and I told them I’d wait for them outside, I wanted to have a smoke. As I was standing outside smoking my cigarette, I heard this high-pitched, crackly voice calling from outside the store. Not just calling, calling my name. I couldn’t figure out who it may have been. It wasn’t my Mom, definitely not my Dad. No one else knew me by name in this remote rest stop. I turned in that direction and our little old greeter was bobbing forward to where I stood.
“Dan!” she cried. “Oh, Dan! Can I talk to you?”
This surprising and odd request eclipsed my first thought, which was “How the hell does she know my name?” In the meantime she had reached the area where I had been standing and the explanation of how she knew my name came chirping out.
“Oh, Dan, I was just having such a lovely talk with your mother,” she said. I should have known.
“Really?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “She told me all about you. She told me how proud she was of you, how you don’t let your blindness stop you from doing things and about your music and writing a book and everything!”
I didn’t think Mom could have gotten so much in with a complete stranger. I hadn’t been in the restroom that long! Our little greeter was still chattering away about my life, as told to by my Mom. She seemed to be coming close to wrapping things up. She ended with a mild reproval.
“And Dan,” she scolded. “You really need to stop with the puff-puff.”
Knowing she meant my cigarettes, I told her I would try. This made her very happy, as evidenced by the pleased chirp of approval. Then she asked me for a favor.
“Dan, can I ask you for something?”
“Um, ok. What?”
“Can I have a hug?”
There she stood, this bright-eyed, chirping little white-haired old lady, 4 feet and some change tall, who had just gleefully performed an impromptu version of “This Is Your Life” for my benefit, asking for a hug. How could I refuse?
I stooped over, draped my arms around her shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. To my surprise, she hopped a little bit and squeaked out “Oooh!” I quickly released her and stepped back. I was worried for a bit. Sometimes I don’t know my own power to charm and this little old lady would be powerless if I turned on my charm full strength. I mean, she was more than likely an octogenarian, for God’s sake!
We got back in the car and, after ensuring that my Mom realized my word of thanks to her for talking about me to strangers was loaded with sarcasm, we hit the road and back to Milwaukee. Michelle got a lot of traction out of this story when I told her about it the next day. When she finally stopped laughing, she gasped “Oh, God! How am I supposed to keep you if your Mom keeps pimping you out to little old ladies?”
“You won’t have to worry about it, I’m retiring my leather chaps,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “It would help cut down the cost of the wedding. Can you retire later?”
“Ok, fine,” I said.
I wonder if that little old lady is still around. This all occurred in 2013, so the chances may be slim.. I hope she is still with us. I feel a little ashamed sometimes because I never called her afterwards. I think she’ll understand…
Loved it Dan