[Today’s run (in Starkville) 8.25 miles, mostly walking]
You may remember the tower work I did a few weeks ago. We took down a tower with fellow members of the local ham radio club. There was a lot of help on hand. It went well.
One of the gentlemen in the club was very attentive. When I came down off of the tower and I was fumbling with my climbing belt he jumped right in and helped work the straps and buckles and get things done. I was impressed at the time with his attentiveness. Most men would leave that as kind of personal space… kind of like helping someone zip their jacket, or untie their shoes. But I was very glad for the help.
Later we were talking and the conversation reminded me that he had long attended to a wife with mental/memory issues. It impressed me that he picked up a good bit of nursing sense with that experience and wasn’t afraid to put it into action. His wife has passed away, I think while we were living out of state. He used to bring her to the ham club meetings and she would sit quietly most of the time. Sometimes she would talk to herself (or so my own dim memory imagines).
One gets older; helping and being helped becomes more of a thing.
When you’re young, someone has a crooked tie or didn’t zip their pants or something, and you don’t want to point it out even if it needs to be pointed out.
I guess as one gets older, there is less time for fooling around… something needs fixed so you point it out or you just fix it, just reach out and get that collar turned back down, button the little button. There you are.