THE OLD MAN SPOKETH

By Edwin Cooney

I bumped into an old man the other day.  I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d chitchat with him for a bit.

“What brings you to this watering hole, old boy?” I asked.

“Good beer, good company, and good conversations,” he said. “For instance, I have two good friends Lunkhead and Dunderhead who drop in now and then. They’re your typical conservative and  liberal know-it-alls. That’s always stimulating, because I just listen to them talk for a few minutes and I realize how much smarter and better informed I am than they are,” said the old fellow.

I know it wasn’t politically correct, but I asked him his age.

“I’m turning seventy-one this very day!” he exclaimed.

“That’s great,” I said.”You don’t look seventy-one!” I insisted. 

“Tell me, who does look seventy-one? What does seventy-one look like compared to 70 or seventy-two?” he shot back.

“So,” I asked him, “What reflections do you have about your life on your seventy-first birthday?”

“Of course, I think quite a bit about the past, but mostly I think about the future because, like everyone else, that’s where I’m going to spend the rest of my days.  After some twenty-five years between marriages, I finally have a lovely wife to think about.  I think about my two lads in California and hope that they’ll take good enough care of themselves to outlive me in safety, prosperity, and peace of mind. 

“In recent years, I’ve become especially interested in life patterns. For instance, your birthday will always be on the same day of the week that you were born every 28 years. Thinking of that pattern makes me realize that I’m probably in the final third of my life. Twenty-eight years ago, it was 1988 and I was supporting Michael Dukakis over George H. W. Bush for President. Now, here’s another presidential year in which I backed two losers, Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton. Twenty-eight years from now I’ll be ninety-nine which means that although I could still be around, it’s unlikely that I will be. So, I need to make the time I have as fulfilling for me and those I love as I possibly can. That I’m still in a position to do that is a gift. 

“As for my spiritual well-being, I’m a Christian, but being a Christian today doesn’t mean to me what it once meant to me. Up until recently I thought being a Christian was about proving to God that I am faithful and worthy of His regard. I’ve since stopped treating God in my mind and heart as though He were Henry VIII, a jealous, insecure and vengeful Heavenly Monarch. I think God merely wants me to be curious and interested in the love God offers to me and people all over the world.” The old guy took a sip of his beer. “You know,” he said, “I’m convinced that God loves good beer! As for religion being the cause of most world conflicts, you can find a pattern and a danger there, but I’d say money is probably just as great a cause for both domestic and international conflicts. Yet seldom, if ever, do you hear anyone suggest that they can do without money! ”

“Here’s one for you,” I said. “Are things worse off, about the same, or better than they were when you were growing up?”

“A lot of little things aren’t as good as they once were, but most fundamental things are much, much better than they used to be,” said the seventy-one year-old birthday man. “I’d like to be able to smoke wherever I want to as I once could, but it’s much healthier as things are, so I can’t seriously kick. I’m old enough to remember 78 RPM records and tube radios. You had to wait for the radios to warm up. I remember most people owned only one telephone and you often had to run across the house to answer it. The receiver was hardwired into the phone base and the phone was hardwired into the wall, so there was little convenience or portability from Ma Bell. As for today’s music, I prefer the stars of the 50s, 60s and 70s, but I’m perfectly comfortable with letting today’s music be what it is. I remember when Elvis Presley was regarded as “the voice of the devil” back in the mid and late 1950s. The small town I lived in had a chime system set up in one of the Roman Catholic churches and the chimes would go off at 6 am and 6 pm, I think.  One day, someone substituted the musical chime record for “You Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog.” It was something of a scandal, to say the least!” 

“How about the state of the nation and that of the world compared to the time you were growing up?” I asked him.

“Life will always be what it always has been: both good and bad, secure and dangerous. I’ve read too much history to buy this nonsense of “making America great again.” No sane American would turn the clock back to relive Watergate, Vietnam, the Cuban Missile Crisis, fear of Soviet Russia, Jim Crowism in the South, or the annual fear of polio, just to name a few crises that supposedly made America “great.” There’s nothing fun or inspiring about the process of overcoming our domestic and international insecurities. Of course, no politician or president is going to make America great again. We’re not good because we possess great natural resources or human smarts or superior creativity. We’re great, when we’re good and we’re good when we provide  more opportunity to more people, at home and abroad. We come nearest to greatness when we feel secure enough to be tolerant. We’ve never been adequately tolerant of ourselves or of others, but we come close.”

The old man paused to order another libation and then said, “I think more than anything else we must keep several things in perspective. First, except perhaps during the years 1933 to 1969, we’ve always been led by the rich and by and large we’ve benefitted from their profits. Second, don’t let big business off the hook on regulation. We all need umpiring from time to time and intelligent regulation is essential to our welfare. Third, remember, you’re more than a taxpayer. You’re a consumer, a customer, a client, and, perhaps, a patient, and in these positions you can so easily become a victim of someone’s greed and recklessness. Fourth, patriotism has its proper place, but don’t assume that patriotism is about settling scores with other nations. Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo tried that and all three were dead in short order. Finally, however much you and I prefer our personal social, political and spiritual values, our children and grandchildren are going to alter them to suit the world they inherit from us. After all, we shaped our society to meet our own demands.”

“Well, old man,” I said, “you don’t seem very afraid as you approach what Frank Sinatra sang as the “autumn of our years.”

“I’m a tad apprehensive about my ultimate fate. After all, it’s not only natural but even  wise to attempt to fathom the uncertain or the unknown! All the apprehension in the world won’t change the reality that I’ve been here much longer than I will be here.  When I became 28 years old on Wednesday, November 28th, 1973, I was in graduate school.  When I became 56 on Wednesday, November 28th, 2001, I was in Alameda, California trying to recover from the loss of a sweetheart. I could reach Wednesday, November 28th, 2029 in fair or even good shape. Today is a good time for me to think about that,” the old man remarked.

“You’re a pretty wise old man,” I said as I reached to shake his hand.

Then, suddenly, without warning, I realized I hadn’t bumped into any old man at all:  I was the “old man.”

What made me realize that, you wonder? The answer’s simple. I fell right out of bed!

RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,

EDWIN COONEY