The keepers of history

While at work yesterday I had that same client again who I had earlier this week. This was the man who recounted how he was suddenly struck with terror upon crossing the Bay Bridge late one night. We continued on with some more interesting conversations , including me finding out that he is related by marriage to a woman who owned a restaurant that my family frequented for many years as I was growing up. At first I could not figure out why his daughter in law looked so familiar to me. Then I discovered that it was her mother (whom she looks very much like) who owned the restaurant. A very small world indeed. And just another of so many situations as of late that have been taking me back to my past. I suppose that some of this reminiscing is because I have passed the mid-century point in my life, where what is left is less than what has already been. Otherwise, working with elderly people puts me in a position to get a look back into the past, including my generation’s past but also the deeper past before my time. Caring for these people can be rather mundane on a day to day basis, but hearing their life stories is most fascinating. In general I’ve always been drawn to older people, even as a child, as there is so much history to learn from them. Some dismiss the elderly and want nothing to do with them. But I have always found that the elders around me are a great source of wisdom and information. One client I had filled me in on so much local history of the town we both live in, including things I’d likely never would have discovered otherwise. Reading books or visiting historical sites and museums is one thing, but getting a first hand account lends another, deeper dimension.

This evening I had the occasion to take a drive down a road I traveled often as a college student, though these days I rarely go that way. The evening rush hour traffic is terrible on the freeway, and so taking that back road saves time. When I was college this wasn’t the case, but I traveled that route simply because it was, at least in those days, a country road. As I drove on I could see in my mind things that were no longer there, including farm fields, a produce stand and a post office. The rural character of that avenue has mostly given way to suburban sprawl. What was once a drive in the country is now just a way to bypass freeway log jams. But there was one thing still there that was there when I was in college, in the late 80’s. A snowball stand on a corner where I have stopped ever so often over the years. I pulled in and got myself a lemon lime snowball and then continued on my way home. At least some things have remained the same.