Obviously, the older we get, the more memories we have. Memories worth talking about. This morning, Old Joe Slack popped into my head. Why? Who knows? But, his memory is one I cherish. To my friend who lived next door to him, I admit I didn't know him as well and didn't have the same interactions with him, but he's a worthy memory for me.
Joe was the first person so go barefoot in the spring. He started in March. Shoes were not a part of his wardrobe again until November. This was Pennsylvania, mind you. Dad and I asked him about it one day. His mother told him to live as close to nature as possible and he would be the healthier for it. He figured he couldn't get closer to nature than to go barefoot, and that's why he took his shoes off before the frost left the ground in spring and left them off long after the ground was hard with it in the fall. He lived into his late 90's, headed for 100, a goal of his. His wife was not as healthy and she was 10 years older than him. He once said he was going to keep her going until she was 100 and he almost made it.
Our closest neighbor, John, was about 10 years younger than Joe and not as healthy. I remember John trying to help Dad take down a tree. I begged Dad to send him home, afraid the frail man would hurt himself. Fortunately, he didn't get hurt, but I was on pins and needles during the process.
Work gives a man purpose and dignity and Dad didn't want to deprive the man who'd been vibrant and hard working all his life-until age and illness slowed took its toll. It had to be hard on John to hire a man 10 years his senior to do handiwork he was incapable of doing for himself. Joe was his handyman.
Joe was capable. He put a new roof on his own home when he was in his mid-90's. You have to admire a man like that.
Then, there was Mack, a neighbor of my in-laws. The last time we saw Mack was at the memorial for my mother-in-law. If I remember correctly, he was 95, as alert and vibrant as a man in half his age. A widower, whose wife died needlessly and tragically, who was not one to feel sorry for himself or feel entitled to anything.
The small town of Imperial, California, sat on the edge of the runways of El Centro Naval Base. Mack, at a younger age, ran through a hail of exploding ammunition to pull a navy pilot out of his burning plane. He won the highest honor this country gives to civilians. A man in his 60's, he developed a mass transit system that has yet to be developed, but a lot of cities were interested in it. When his wife died, he built a second story apartment over his home, and moved into it. The house, he rented out. Because California summers are so unbearably hot in that desert valley, Mack also bought a 5th-wheeler and traveled north during the most miserable months-in his 90's. He was such a dynamic example to my brother-in-law, he would get tears in his eyes, thinking about the man Mack was.
Do we have any old geezers around like that any more? Are they still influencing younger generations by their lifestyle? Are the men of my generation able to step up to the plate and be the example these men were to me? Even among Christians, I've heard the comment that old people need to die so everyone else could move on. I wonder if they still feel that way now that they're the old people.
Men like Joe and Mack didn't take pleasure in riches or things. They took pleasure in LIFE. They were comfortable in their own skin. Good for them. I admire them and pray that God will keep a few more of them around to teach our young people how to really live.
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