He has hearing aides but he won't wear them. I remember being out with him in one of his many beautiful flower beds when he first got them. A sparrow in a near by peach tree started to sing. My grandfather winced. "Brian, I hate these things," he said to me. "Do you know that I can hear that bird." He pointed an accusatory finger. "That one. The one in that tree there!"
"Well," I said calmly, "you're supposed to be able to hear the birds. That's normal."
He scowled refocused his attention on an iris bulb. I never saw him wear his hearing aide again.
My grandmother is in many ways the opposite of my grandfather. She really has no interest in other people, she doesn't want to join clubs or leave the house or answer the door bell. She loves the quite seclusion of her home and the occasional visit from one of her kids or grandbabies, as she still calls us. Retirement has not bored my grandmother. In fact, if my grandfather would just get off her back she'd be happier now than she ever has been before.
So, in order for both of them to maintain some level of sanity, my grandfather has had to come up with different schemes to fill his day, schemes that put him in contact with people and provide the social interaction he so desperately craves, while leaving my grandmother alone in the house so she can soak up the quiet time that gets her through. He joined a gun club, a coin collectors club, and an association of former marines. He took a part time job at a pawn shop for a while.
Lately he's been serving as a crossing guard for the school system. He drives out to a busy intersection and wears an orange vest and holds a stop sign and helps the kids cross the street safely. In nice weather he takes a lawn chair but as it's winter he waits inside his car.
Last week, my grandfather was out in his capacity as crossing guard. He was reclined a little in his seat and was resting his head against the driver's door window. He was apparently day dreaming or lost in thought because he was staring out into space. He was probably breathing from his mouth as that is his habbit, so I'm sure his mouth was hanging open a bit.
He was startled out of his day dream by a squad of firemen brandishing a defibrillator and an oxygen tank. They had stealthily approached in a pumper truck with lights and sirens. My grandfather did not hear them until they banged on the door.
"Sir? Sir? Are you all right? Sir? What is your name? Who is the president? What town do you live in? Sir?"
My grandfather got out of the car and faced the firemen. "I'm fine, I'm fine. What's goin on?"
"Sir we had a report that a man had died in a car on the side of the road at this intersection. When we drove up with our siren's wailing you didn't even flinch. We thought you were dead, sir."
"I'm not dead yet," my grandfather replied indignantly. "I'm the crossing guard."
"Are you sure you're all right? I mean, you look a little pasty and there's some� what is that? Oh. That's a little toothpaste in the corner of your mouth there. No, just there. Left. Left. To the left. Sorry, my left. Little more. There."
"Look, I'm fine. I was just day dreaming. Now go on. I'm fine, I'm fine. Get on out of here now."
The firemen turned and headed back to their truck. At the same time, an ambulance with a police escort came flying up behind my grandfather. He did not hear them approach, naturally. He turned to return to his car only to be faced with another group of uniformed strangers trying to muscle him into a Gurney.
My grandfather describes it as "a bad morning."
Posted at 10:57 a.m.
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