Wisdom Hard to Come By

by J.G. Fabiano

Why don't the old talk to us? Why is it so hard for them to explain their years of experience to those of us who try not to make the mistakes of those who lived before us? Why is it so difficult for them to look into our eyes and explain how they got to become so old? To paraphrase Harry Truman, "There is nothing new in this world. Only the history that we do not know."

I've watched an elderly gentleman over the past decade or so. I've seen how he respects and enjoys what life has to offer. Into the summer he kept his yard and driveway immaculately clean. It was obvious that he had come to realize that the more organized his home, the more controlled his life appeared. All summer long he never let the outgrowths beat him. Even when it looked foolish and all his neighbors thought he was crazy, he still kept his yard perfectly ordered. It was as though he wanted to embarrass all of us who did not have the tenacity to do the same.

Now that summer is behind us, he has replaced the lawn mower with the basket of broken bread. Every morning, without fail, he is seen feeding the seagulls who appear before him. I have seen him do this for the past couple of decades. I have heard from others that they can't remember a year in which he has failed to do so.

The other morning I worked up the courage to talk to this man. He became so uncomfortable when I approached. In fact, he looked as though he wanted to disappear into his perfectly kept house. Even as I tried to smile my broadest smile and act as friendly as I could, he still looked away from me. With all his might he simply tried to ignore me.

Has this old man been so badly treated by those who were younger that he insists on keeping his distance from all who approach him? Or is he afraid that I might think he is unnecessary because of his age? Don't the aged realize that they should be both admired and revered because of their years? Doesn't everyone realize what the old have to offer?

Another elderly gentleman moved down the road from my house about the same time. He also developed his home into a neat and organized system for all to admire. In trying to be a good neighbor, I waved to him and again smiled my friendliest smile. Like before, I was ignored. He merely stared down at the ground praying that I would disappear. Because of my youthful insistence, I decided to try and force out a conversation with my new neighbor. He just looked right through me and refused to listen to anything I was trying to say. I failed to communicate and to this day he refuses to return any acknowledgments of friendship or concern.

On the other hand, I've been fortunate to have known two elderly people long enough to build trust and thus learn from them. One was with an elderly gentleman whom I met when I owned and managed a small convenience store at York Beach, Maine. He was a small-framed man named John-Paul. I never knew his last name. Every morning when I opened the store at 7:00 am, he was there to greet me and buy his one cup of coffee and single pack of cigarettes. In the beginning of our relationship, he was very quiet and kept pretty much to himself. After the weeks, months and then years had passed he opened up and decided to teach me about the times he had survived. Our talks never had a lot of substance. We never talked about politics or religion. We just talked about life and how it evolves from the innocence of children to the innocence of the aged.

Unlike all the other failed conversations of the past, when John-Paul talked to me he also looked into me. In fact, he followed my eyes with his and never let them wander over my head or down to my shoes. If I never remember anything about this part of my past, I will remember how this man not only heard what I was saying. I swear he knew, through the windows of my eyes, what I felt I had to say.

Another elderly personality whom I was fortunate to know was a young elderly lady named Phyllis Bonnet. I have never known a more energetic person. She worked for me in all of my business ventures and I respected and trusted her more then I could have dreamed possible. She taught me how to enjoy what life has to offer. She never complained, and like John- Paul, she always gazed deep into my mind during all of our conversations.

I called her the California Lady because of her modern ideas and respect for the youth surrounding her. Phyllis's smile lit up rooms and anyone with even the slightest association with her could feel her warmth. She loved life and all who knew her had to love her.

Both Phyllis and John-Paul have passed away. My greatest regret is that I didn't keep in contact with these gentle people. I guess I was too interested in my success in society instead of a success in life. This, more than any other reason, is why I yearn to communicate with those who have survived their years. I believe that if all of us would take the time to learn from the aged we could learn to live a fuller life. A classic adage is that youth is wasted on the young. I pray that the wisdom of the old is not wasted and thus lost on the old.