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A bit over two decades ago, I was transferred to a city that's a little over 70 miles from my hometown. Being in my twenties, separation from my family and friends took some time to overcome.
In the meantime, I've started a family, met people both wonderful and diabolical and learned that distance has its benefits.
I was given several choices during the transfer process as were the rest of my coworkers. Since our home facility had been chosen for closure, we could accept a severance package or choose from a list of locations based on seniority.
I was fairly low on the totem pole so I got stuck with a 'burb far from the city center. I soon learned that most of my customers would be old farts in the clutches of retirement.
So it was for several years. Make no mistake; there are people of every age group in any particular location but my area was primarily populated by the elderly.
Some of the regulars catch my eye instead of simply being another face. Some I've seen for years yet still haven't caught their names even though they know mine.
One customer in particular stands out from the rest as he daily scarfs a donut and a cup of coffee before he shops. We consider it as complimentary thievery.
I've watched this man age over the last 20 years. He developed a hobble a few years ago as I anguished over my own hair loss. Just as I was shaving my head and getting gray hair in my beard, he began using a cane.
Today, he said something that left me speechless.
We had our usual eye contact and accompanying smile but then he motioned me over to him.
He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "It must feel good to be young, handsome and full of vim and vigor."
Now, I'll admit that I'm in good shape for my age but when I look at myself in the mirror, I only see the negative changes that Time is dealing me. As I looked into his eyes, I could see myself through them.
My children are my barbers. I let my whiskers grow until my son asks me for a "cheek check". He then rubs his cheek against mine to determine whether or not he needs to break out the electric razor. Invariably, the stubble on my head comes next since my family seems to like the shape. I'm also heartened by the fact that they like the stuff inside my skull as well. My daughter takes over where her little brother left off, my wife follows suit and I do the final touches before delivering hugs.
Those thoughts were rolling through my mind after my customer made that statement to me.
I could only respond with, "My feet hurt a little. (3-second-pause) Thanks."
It'll look awkward but when I see him next, he's getting a hug.
So, in conclusion, it turns out that getting shoved into a retirement community actually has benefits that can't be calculated.
Keep an eye on the old farts.
We'll keep an eye on you in return.
In the meantime, I've started a family, met people both wonderful and diabolical and learned that distance has its benefits.
I was given several choices during the transfer process as were the rest of my coworkers. Since our home facility had been chosen for closure, we could accept a severance package or choose from a list of locations based on seniority.
I was fairly low on the totem pole so I got stuck with a 'burb far from the city center. I soon learned that most of my customers would be old farts in the clutches of retirement.
So it was for several years. Make no mistake; there are people of every age group in any particular location but my area was primarily populated by the elderly.
Some of the regulars catch my eye instead of simply being another face. Some I've seen for years yet still haven't caught their names even though they know mine.
One customer in particular stands out from the rest as he daily scarfs a donut and a cup of coffee before he shops. We consider it as complimentary thievery.
I've watched this man age over the last 20 years. He developed a hobble a few years ago as I anguished over my own hair loss. Just as I was shaving my head and getting gray hair in my beard, he began using a cane.
Today, he said something that left me speechless.
We had our usual eye contact and accompanying smile but then he motioned me over to him.
He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "It must feel good to be young, handsome and full of vim and vigor."
Now, I'll admit that I'm in good shape for my age but when I look at myself in the mirror, I only see the negative changes that Time is dealing me. As I looked into his eyes, I could see myself through them.
My children are my barbers. I let my whiskers grow until my son asks me for a "cheek check". He then rubs his cheek against mine to determine whether or not he needs to break out the electric razor. Invariably, the stubble on my head comes next since my family seems to like the shape. I'm also heartened by the fact that they like the stuff inside my skull as well. My daughter takes over where her little brother left off, my wife follows suit and I do the final touches before delivering hugs.
Those thoughts were rolling through my mind after my customer made that statement to me.
I could only respond with, "My feet hurt a little. (3-second-pause) Thanks."
It'll look awkward but when I see him next, he's getting a hug.
So, in conclusion, it turns out that getting shoved into a retirement community actually has benefits that can't be calculated.
Keep an eye on the old farts.
We'll keep an eye on you in return.
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