a lesson on seeing what's not there

in memory of katherine, who passed away at age 105

Her name is Katherine. She was pointed out to me at the wedding reception early in the evening. Shes 99 years old. I was told. And for 99 she looked pretty good, but theres not a lot of people to compare her to at that age either. She looked frail, and somewhat distant. I avoided her as much as I could, being somewhat uncomfortable around the elderly or infirm, perhaps too aware of my own mortality.

Later that evening, I was standing by a table and I felt a gentle tugging at my sleeve. I looked down and there was Katherine, offering me the empty seat next to her. At first I declined and attempted to join the conversations around me already in progress, but conversations slowed, and again I felt the gentle tugging at me sleeve. This time I sat down and thanked her.

At first we talked tentatively and politely. Where was I from? How was I related to the others in the room? And she nodded and feigned interest as did I. Then something happened. While talking of my old hometown of Chicago, one of us mentioned the art institute as a favorite place, and something palpable changed in her right then. She told me the last time she had gone there was to see a Monet exhibit and oh!, how she loved Monet and all the Impressionists! And she brightened as she talked. When I told her I was fortunate enough to have been to Paris and seen his Waterlilies paintings we were off on a non-stop tour of Europe together, marveling at the art, the architecture and the history. And she held her wrinkled hands together under her chin as if in prayer. And she spoke of her favorite places. Florence!!!!!! Michelangelos sculptures!! And she wondered aloud how he could look at a block of stone and see the wonderful figures waiting to be brought out. Such beauty. Such wonder. Something very strange happened as we talked. For just a little while, Katherine and I were very young. And we walked together through the galleries and cathedrals. We wandered the sidewalks over the canals of Venice. I watched with her as, when she was a child, she would see the schooners come into the bay in Seattle, laden with the gold of the Alaskan gold rush. And her eyes were bright and alive and I hung on her every word.

But then it was time to leave. And I looked back at her and she was a small frail lady of 99 again. I thanked her for the wonderful conversation and she thanked me as well. But I think I learned something that evening. I think perhaps now I understand just a little of how Michelangelo felt when he looked at the marble block and he was able to see not what was THERE, but what was within. All the beauty and strength, just waiting to be released. I also hope Ive learned to not dismiss those gentle tugs on the sleeve that come along now and then. I would have missed so much if that second tug had not come.

So thank you, Katherine. Neither you nor I will probably ever see Europe again, and God knows we will never be young again. Chances are you and I will never meet again. But I wont forget the time I spent with a wonderful young lady as we explored the places we both loved. You are an amazing lady and Im glad to have talked to you. Thanks for tugging at my sleeve.

 

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Behind the greyest hair and the most lined faces are the young who lived a thousand dreams. Your story is beautiful, shows how memories can wipe away a long past and walk people through magic times.

The comparison with age and a statue is incredibly true. I love elderly people, they're walking history, and, when one stops to listen, their eyes shimmer with thoughts of their past and they re-live the times when they could really live every moment, happy and sad.

Your story epitomises everything wonderful about age and the past of someone who's really lived and can recall...

Thank you for moving me to a lump in my throat. x

[M.E.Lyle]

This is an amazing piece of work. How much we miss by not opening those aged old books of the past. By books I mean the elderly. So many of them pass from this earth daily, and along with them they take wonderful stories of a past time. My mother is 86 and suffering from dimentia. She can't remember the present, but will sit and discuss with the past all day long. Sometimes you may hear the same story over and over again. Wouldn't it have been nice if the two of you could have met at the same junture in time, both of you young, but then who would have written this story.

[Mark]

I've long wondered why the young so blithely dismiss the old. Is it that they see their own future, and it scares them? Or, does talking with a person of years remind them too poignantly of their own inadequacies? Wisdom is only a rare commodity because we spend every waking moment avoiding that which can only be found in isolated pockets which disappear every day unmined. A very "grimace, nod head slowly" poem of a story, Bob.

[Katchzen]

And here is one of the reasons I love older people. They have such great stories to tell. Katherine sounds wonderful. I hope she continues to have a long and excellent life.

[AK]

This is perhaps the best thing I've read. Thank you Emily for the recommendation! Gorgeous writing, beautiful story. It's all bundled up in this piece!

[Emily B]

I usually avoid anything resembling a story. I blame my short, little attention span. But something about this title pulled me. And I'm so glad I listened. THere is something about shared experiences. Yours and mine and hers. Lessons learned are worth sharing.

[Patient Poet (Yos)]

Thats soooo beautiful . omg, one that you find on here maybe once in a while, I am Happy to be on the Cafe for the momemts I find those lovely stories. Yes, we never know what we will find, you was lucky, you fly in time and place and at the same time you stayed in that party Room, thats happen once in a while, and youcherish it. They say that age is just a number, is it? ... usually its not, we will all be old one day (Hopefully!) but we dont always respect the eldery , we want to conect to the young people, like to try to keep been young for just more time, but the eldery has the experiance , and the memories. You was luck to know that Thank you ... and thank you Ron for the reading request ... Yossi

[Idance512]

How beautiful. You capture the gentle tug, whisper, or subtle & inviting look in ones eyes and bring to life the magnificence of that opportunity. Sometimes in doing so we might discover a statue. An individual needing help. Someone that needs a hug. It might even be that this person has a story to tell, or we simply take away a story of our own. Our best.

Kudos
Susie J

[Ron]

Really lovely work. A golden prose nugget. Well done! I wil send this to Yosmos he will love it too. Loved your honestly regarding the initial polite rejection of the old lady. This spring board (hard to confess) launches the whole work into deep spaces. Think of the rapture you gave to the lady too. Ron