Feverpitched photo
"I hate people who stare," Ann blurted as she and her husband, Archie, came out of the Goose Neck Cafe, nestled into the edge of Wisconsin's Horicon Marsh. She pretended to say it to him but made sure her voice was loud enough so everyone around the bar inside could hear her.
"Ann!" Archie scolded in muffled anger as he made his own way to their car. "What are you trying to do? You're only making things worse."
"No, I'm not," she replied loudly, proceeding at her own, quicker pace. "Didn't you see that guy staring at you?"
"No," Archie said sharply and continued to walk toward their car – she at an unsteady gate and he, slower, with a walker.
Archie really hadn't. He was too busy trying to negotiate his walker through the clumsy entrance, guarded by a heavy front door.
"I can't get angry every time someone looks at me," he explained in a calmer tone. "Life is too short to get upset about things like that."
"My point is," Ann reasoned, still boiling, "that, if you don't say something, people are never going to realize what they're doing. Don't people staring at you make you angry?"
"Yeah, it hurts, but they're doing what comes naturally," Archie shouted back and unlocked the car door. "At 79, I'm not out to change the world!"
"That's not the point," she insisted. "You need to stand up for yourself."
"Ssssish," he said instinctively, trying to cover the personal accusation. "I do. But I pick my moments. That was not crucial. There are times when I want to just be -- and relax."
Archie angrily threw his walker in the back seat and slid under the wheel. Their day had started with an aimless, relaxing Sunday drive. As one o'clock approached, they, in their serendipity, stopped at the cafe, which popped up along Highway 26.
It was like interrupting a neighborhood Sunday dinner, not normally open to strangers, Archie noted. In a separate room off the bar, they sat down to one of four small tables, topped with plastic tablecloths of red and white squares. Since it was already past noon, the other tables soon became empty.
They had real mashed potatoes and gravy with fried chicken and squash in the room all by themselves. Only a few "regulars" sat at the bar across from them. They joshed with the waitress, who also tended the bar and cash register.
After dinner, Archie proceeded to the rest room, while Ann paid for the meal at the bar.
Archie squeezed past a bar patron, who was much overweight and filled a stool and a half. The space between his posterior and the wall was so small Archie had to turn his walker sideways and push it awkwardly so the wheels followed in an unusual direction. Even then, he brushed, ever so slightly, against the patron's broad backside.
When Archie came back from the rest room, he had to go through the same process to get to the front door.
Before going through the front door, he felt an uninhibited urge to take one last look at the patron on the bar stool. His curiosity overtook him, and he grabbed one quick look -- not looking into his face but feasting on his body's bulging profile.
Archie started the car, and there was dead silence, even though Ann was right next to him.
Suddenly a racket came from his left. A flock of geese, honking in the empty fall air, had taken off from the marsh in back of the cafe and was beginning to circle and regroup over the parking lot.
Both got out of the car just in time to catch an over-head glimpse of the flock. The lead goose honked repeatedly as the flock gradually formed a V-shape and flew into the southern wind.
"See!" Ann said, trying to maintain her stern look while unsuccessfully hiding her smile. "Somebody's got to take the lead and make some noise."
"Just making noise is not the answer," Archie curtly replied. "At some point, you have to decide how you're going to fit in and fly with the flock."
"But don't you feel a responsibility for letting people know how insensitive they can be?" Ann queried in a calmer tone as they drove out of the parking lot and onto Highway 26.
"Not really," Archie said slowly and glanced one more time at the disappearing flock on the southern horizon. "They all take turns being the lead goose, you know. To be a leader sometimes and a follower at other times -- that takes flexibility."
"That's true."
“The world is full of confusion and contradiction. We cannot expect to do anything that is absolutely right. We can only measure rightness by the truth within ourselves. And our own truth will never be quite the same as somebody else's.” - Jay Woodman
"Besides, who are we to judge? I found myself doing the same thing we're all upset about. I couldn't help myself. I stared at that overweight man on the stool."
"He looked so bizarre," Ann admitted, almost to herself, with a chuckle.
"See. It's just human nature!" Archie knew he was repeating himself. And that was OK. It needed to be repeated.
But he didn't feel comfortable as they headed home. He was reminded of what Mark Twain once wrote:
"Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example."
Archie's takeaway tip from his sto
ry: Be amused as well as realistic about contradictions in human nature.
Here’s to elderhood and vulnerability!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “Opening Up” newsletter
“Story-guided Discussion for Finding Peace with Age-related Limitations”
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I’m always surprised when I hear prominent people (often business leaders) say they believe a key requisite for choosing political leaders is experience in business.
Today, effective business leaders in the public sector need to keep their eye on just one thing: their company’s stock price. After all, that’s how their performance as leaders is measured by the boards of directors which hire them. And often stock is a sizable portion of their compensation package.
The concerns of employees, suppliers, communities, customers and activists involved in the leader’s particular enterprise are often only secondary to stock performance.
Political leaders, on the other hand, need experience in balancing the concerns and needs of multiple interests within their jurisdictions – and come to compromises that, for the most part, are good for all. At least, that’s the ideal orientation.
President Coolidge once said the chief business of government is business. I’m not so sure about that. After all, that was a century ago – just before the Great Depression..
I would rather say instead: Governing is the practice of statesmanship. “Statesmanship” may be an old-fashioned term, but to me it boils down to tapping one’s experience, ability and wisdom to effectively manage public affairs (not private interests).
* What is your most amusing example of how people can live with contradiction?