Conversations with Brad

“Sit down and rest your face and your hands,” said a nicely ripened veteran awaiting a taxi. 

“I believe I will sit and rest my hands and my face,” I replied. 

“Sit down and rest your face and your hands,”  he repeated, correcting the order of my words. 
      
And then, I did just as he had asked.   After all, who could resist such a friendly invitation to chat.   

“I am one of the old ones too," he said. "There aren't many of us left.”  

He extended a firm right hand. 

“I’m Gentry,” I said, grasping his hand for a solid shake. 

“Have you ever heard that?"  Repeating his mantra, "Sit down and rest your face and your hands. ”  

“No, actually I don’t think I have.”  

“It’s a really old one.  Here’s a good one my dad used to say.   I don’t think it was very nice.  Here’s your hat.  Sorry you have leave so soon.  Come back again when you don't have so long to stay." 

"Now that's a good one," I admitted. 

I repeated it a few times to be sure I was getting it just right, then let him continue, only rarely interjecting a vocal cue to show I was paying attention. 

"I lost my wife about three years ago.  It's really lonely living alone.  The nurses all give me hugs and even the doctor.  I'll take all the hugs I can get.  Fifty-eight years.  I kissed her 30-40 times a day." 

I listened intently.  He meant it. 

"They diagnosed me with lung cancer.  I've had two surgeries. That last one was tough.  I had morphine for two weeks and hallucinated the whole time.  I don't like morphine." 

He asked if I was familiar with a particular part of Portland.  

" No, I'm from out of town.  I'm from Tacoma."   

"I was down in Tacoma once, it was 1948, the coldest winter on record.  We were breaking up ice in the river with pipes.  The tidewater had frozen solid." 

"Corps of Engineers?"  I asked. 

"Yes, Corps of Engineers.  One thing you haven't noticed about me, I'm blind."   

I had not.  His eyes appeared sharp and well focused on the wall beyond.  I would have never known. 

"I really loved art, everything from blown glass to...  There was a time I had mastered seven trades.  Give me your hand." 

I extended it to receive a gently rocking massage, my hand rippling like a soft, warm tide.  These special hands could break any ice. 

He continued, "I walked up behind a lady one day and started massaging her neck and shoulders.  After about 10 minutes my daughter came in and said, 'Dad, that is not Aunt Hilda.'  She was just sitting there enjoying it.  They say the odds are pretty good here, about 65% women and 35% men.  I am going to get myself another woman."

I suppose I could have listened and learned from Brad all day, but I finally told him I would be seeing him again.  Once more I practiced his dad's favorite line.

 "Here's your hat, sorry you have to leave, come back again when you don't have as long to stay." 

"Yes, I might see you again." 

"No Brad, I will see you again.