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October 12, 2006
Salute
I saw an old man today who I have written about before. I live near a middle school and I was going for an afternoon run. As I was waiting to cross a rather busy intersection near my home, I noticed an old man trying to cross the road. He was bent over and seemed to move like he was suffering from arthritis. Each time the man would prepare to cross the street, a car came. The poor bloke was having a tough time.
I then noticed two boys, who seemed to be about fourteen years-old, standing near the man. They wore hooded sweatshirts and were carrying skateboards.
Suddenly my heart went cold becaus,e as the traffic stopped, I could hear the boys yelling. They were taunting and ridiculing the old man.
“Cross the road,” I heard one yell. “We want to see a car hit you.”
“Run old man run.” Laughed the other.
“Were you in a zombie movie?”
“Yeah you look like the living dead.”
“Dude, you smell like a moth ball.”
“Take a shower man.”
I was flabbergasted. I walked toward the boys ready to give them everything I had. One kid flipped me the bird and they both bolted across the road and disappeared behind the convenience store. I tried to chase them, but stopped when I realized that there was nothing I could do if I caught them, except get myself into trouble for trying to teach them a lesson.
I went into the supermarket across the road and saw the old man buying groceries.
“I’m sorry about those boys out on the street,” I said.
“Pah,” he said. “I ignore it.”
“I don’t know if I could,” I said.
“Well,” he said. “I’m eighty-four years old. My skin is pretty thick.”
“That was so disrespectful,” I replied. “I just wanted to…”
“Yeah,” said the man. “They have so much to learn. I was just a few years older ‘n ‘em when I was fighting in the war.”
“Which war?” I asked.
“The second one. I was a pilot with the RAF. I was shot down during the battle of the Bulge. December 16 1944. Yep. It was a bad one. 75000 Americans were killed. I landed in a forest in the Ardennes region of eastern Belgium. I was a prisoner for a while.”
I looked at the old man and felt so sad. Here was a person who risked his life so that a couple of snot-nosed teens could have the luxury of living in a free country, to ride skate boards, play video games and torment old people for sports.
I wish there was more respect for the elderly like they have in many of the Asian countries. Places where old folk are revered and adored for their wisdom and knowledge.
I said goodbye to the old man and watched him shuffle off down the isle.
I suddenly had a thought and rushed after him
“Thank you for fighting for us,” I said, patting him on the shoulder.
The old man gave me a shaky salute, turned, and disappeared around the corner.
Posted by trevor at October 12, 2006 05:42 PM
Comments
It was beautiful to read about your conversation with the old soldier. And, tenderly written, to show YOUR respect for him. I think it is deeply sad to see some teens behavior, but I keep telling myself that if they were not in a cluster, they probably would be what their parents want them to be - kind, thoughtful and respectful. Maybe I'm naieve. Thank you for sharing your meeting and making his morning a little better with your kindness.
Posted by: ardi at October 13, 2006 09:29 AM