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The_Ol_ManandMe

Feature Article January 23

Feature Article January 23, 2002

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The ol' man and meI watched them come in, a stout, middle-aged lady with a bowed old man in tow. She guided him through the empty room and helped him to a table by an open window. Stooping, she kissed him on his head, placed a handful of change on the table, and left; not a word had been exchanged. This was a ritual that had been performed before.

Soon a glass of draft beer was placed on the terrycloth table cover and a few low words of greeting were exchanged between him and the waiter; then he withdrew to polish away his life behind the bar. The Ol' Man and me, alone together he, unaware of our togetherness. He, isolated by his memories, and I, mentally intruding, flew backwards over a lifetime.

Periodically he tried to line up his few opposing teeth to crack a peanut and took the odd sip from his glass. He seemed quite content to sit and gaze at the surrounding meadows. The waiter left us alone for our journey.

I accompanied him behind the team as a young man ploughing the back forty, eager to be done before chores; they could be completed by lantern and still leave him some time for his young family. I watched him forlornly wave, turning to brush aside a tear, as his daughter boarded the local train for the bright lights and excitement of city work. I wept with him beside the graves of contemporaries as he buried family and friends over the years. I sped through a lifetime of joy and sickness, shared good crops and bad weather. I laughed and cried with him.

Eyes bleached by the sun-drenched fields set in a face lined from too many years of worry told me the stories. Unsteady hands that had once calmed newborn calves and colts trickled beer down his shirtfront and shook too violently to let him rise and greet the woman who had brought him in.

I watched as she helped him up, wiped the spittle from his chin and buttoned up his sweater.

I watched and mused. Mused about depleted life, time on earth overspent, a terrible way to exist; there could be nothing worse!

As they passed my table, he painfully trying to keep up, I heard her say, "Hurry Dad. We have to get to the hospital before supper. Maybe Mom will recognize you tonight."

With the participation of the Government of Canada