Overheard: Two Stories

The man looked to be in his early 70's. He sat comfortably in the waiting room, leaning on his cane with both hands and smiling a greeting to everyone who entered. It was clear he was happy to have company and was hoping to talk.

He got his chance. A few comments from someone about the weather and he started.

"I sure miss my wife. Lost her a year and a half ago to cancer. She was a tough one, never gave up. She'd lay there and crook her finger at me to come nearer, and I did, not knowing whether she was going to kiss me or slap my nose. She aggravated the heck out of me, and she'd just laugh. I sure miss her.

"I only met her three times before I asked her to marry me. I only kissed her once before I asked her! She was in a Sunday school class at my church, and when I got out of basic and sent to AIT the girls in the class wrote to me. There were three of them; I knew the other two but I didn't know her so she was the one I wrote back to.

"When I finally got leave to come home, I went straight to see her. She wasn't home! I was real disappointed. I came back next evening and she was there. So were her parents. She and I sat on the couch and talked, but her father was right across the room. That put a damper on things. I got sent overseas after that but we kept on writing.

"Next time I planned to come home on her birthday. I got there all right but the buddy who picked me up asked if I wanted to go bowling. I loved to bowl so I said sure. Clean forgot about her birthday! When I remembered it was late and neither of us had a phone so I couldn't call to explain. Went over there early the next morning and just told the truth. She forgave me right away. I asked her to marry me then. We kept writing and when I got out of the service we got married. We had 48 years together. I miss her every day, every minute. I knew first time I laid eyes on her that she was the one for me."

His story was told with humor, the light of memory bright in his eyes. We were all smiling when he'd finished.

Second story:

In another waiting room, a woman and her elderly father sat with their backs to the room, talking so loudly it was impossible not to hear. Stories of ugly divorces, grandchildren they could never see, a truck-driving daughter who never sees her children, and then this:

"I gave him $50 last time." This was the daughter speaking. She looked to be about fifty-sixty years old.

"Well, he called me and said it was a life or death situation and he had to get to Lexington. I gave him $300."

"$300! It doesn't take $300 to get to Lexington from here!"

"Well, maybe he needed a motel room or something. Anyway, next time he calls, I want you to talk to him and tell him a little white lie. Tell him I am about to lose my truck, that I'm three payments behind. Tell him I just can't help him. It doesn't do any good to give him money. Remember when he sold all my cars? And her too--I can't give her any more money. I paid off over $23,000 on her house, and what gratitude did it get me?"

This last was the old father speaking. I supposed he was talking about his grandchildren. He went on to remind his daughter of the $8000 he'd paid off on someone's car, and other sums of money he'd given to people, apparently family members.

When we left, the daughter was discussing a court case coming up for her. Bitterness accented every word she spoke. I glanced at the father as we passed by. So bent over, so worn down, his Korean vet hat crooked on his head.

The first story above made my heart glad; this second one just about broke it.



Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.