This Old Man

Every day I wonder where is that old man going? Today as I was more interested than normal as snow was flying through the city streets and it was well below freezing. I couldn’t help myself, I pulled up to the sidewalk, put some money in the parking meter, and then I walked back a block to visit this man that I saw every day.

“Good morning, sir, my name is Nancy. How are you this morning?”

“Oye,” he said with a strange accent, “I’d be just fine if my legs would work.”

“Yeah, I see you walking every day, no matter the weather. I drive past on my way to work and I wonder what is so pressing that you walk every single day.”

“Life, my friend, life is so pressing. You see, six years ago I lost my wife to breast cancer, just ten months before our fiftieth wedding anniversary. Every day I go to the cemetery and visit my darling Margaret.” He pointed to the thermos sitting beside him, “I have a cup of coffee and tell her about my plans for the day and how yesterday went. Just like when she was alive; every day she would send me off to work, but only after a cup of coffee and some great conversation.”

He looked at me and I witnessed a tear just before he flicked it aside, “So,” he continued, “every day I get on the bus, ride out to visit with her, we have our coffee, and conversation, then I walk to the Senior Citizen’s Center for a two dollar lunch.  Once lunch has filled me up I converse with the younger folk at the center and catch the bus home.”

I sat in awe, speechless to the rounds this man made every day, and astounded that he would share so much information with me, a stranger. I pulled my coat tighter around me and noticed his flimsy spring jacket, yet he didn’t seem cold at all.

“Oye, Nancy, what is your last name?”

“Frantz, my name is Nancy Frantz.”

“Frantz? Any relation to Arthur Frantz?”

“Yes, he was my father, but he passed away a few years ago.”

“I know,” this nameless gentleman told me. “I fought side by side with him in World War II.”

“You knew my father? That’s not possible, you’re so young.”

“Oye, thank you, but my daily conversations with Margaret helped fight the aging effects of stress. I’m really 87 years old.”

“You knew my Dad? What was he like during his younger years? What’s your name anyway?”

“I thought you would never ask. My name is Felix Childs, you called me Uncle Funny when you were young and I would visit your family.”

I quickly stood up in shock and excitement, “Uncle Funny, I remember you now; you went to my big sister’s wedding with a banana in your pocket and told everyone you were ‘a monkey’s uncle’.”

“Oye, you remember that? Yes, that was me. The truth is I have diabetes so I carried something to eat wherever I went.”

“Uncle Funny, would you mind if I drove you to the cemetery and had coffee with you and Aunt Margaret?” I hesitated for a moment. “I don’t want to intrude, but I would love to spend some time catching up with you. My father left us kids with a lot of unanswered questions when he passed away and maybe you could help me.”

“What sorts of questions do you have, Nancy?”

“Well, I know my dad was a boxer in the military, but he didn’t talk much about that part of his life.”

“Oye. During the War no one really wanted to talk about it, but let’s go see Margaret and then I will answer as many questions as I can.”