Just Testing

Glory to those who hope!
For the future is theirs;
Those who stand unflinching against the mountain
Shall gain its summit.
The New Union Prayer Book



Dads reputation had spread. Other residents had gone out of their way to tell my wife and me about the New Year s dinner dance at Logan East. He was 96 and didn t stop dancing until he had exhausted the much younger ladies - - well after midnight.

For the past few weeks Roz had been making a super protein drink for Dad because, left to his own devices, he would live only on cookies, cakes, cokes, ice cream and Ensure. He just didn t seem to get much protein. The chocolate flavored drink was made from soy beans, , and suited his taste and needs.
On the way to my office I parked at Logan and dropped off the latest batch at the front desk. Many of the women, in their customary way, were sitting around in the lobby. I told Debbie, the desk clerk, that I was leaving this special protein drink for my dad and that she should be sure to deliver it. Debbie was only in her late 40s, and in pretty good shape, but she had seen my father s New Year s Eve performance and asked, How can I get some of that?

Because we had such a great living testimonial in Dad, I thought that Roz and I might wind up having to bring gallons the next time we showed up. I mused that we could even develop a home business and split our profits with Dad. He could then use the money to pay for new dancing shoes.

What observers didn t realize is that Dad used other coping techniques that are not as visible as a protein drink. One was positive thinking. For example, before he was sentenced to a urinary catheter, he worried about his leakage and stored a collection of absorbent underwear pants. When he had accidents he had to change his clothes and that sometimes happened several time a day. That wasn t always easy because his energy was slowly ebbing and he wasn t as agile as he once was. However, he gained comfort from what may be described as a self-help ploy. He thought back to his life with Mom at the Carlene Apartments several years ago. At that time he and Mom went to swim a few times a day. When they came back to the apartment he changed clothes. They might eat lunch and relax, and then he d change back into his bathing suit and go to the pool again. He compared his leakage to that. He changed clothes then for pleasure, what s wrong with doing it now for necessity?

He also liked to keep testing himself. Dad told me that he knew that he could order his food from the dining room table like many others did, but he always went up to the counter, ordered his food and carried it back to the table. He did this to test himself. He liked to make sure that he could find his way back to his table, because it changed from day to day, and many tables looked alike - - with an identical flower vase in the middle. So he developed a system. When he left a table, he put the vase on a nearby window sill. Other residents would ask, Don t you like flowers? He would assure them that he does and that the flowers help guide him back to his table.

While leaving the dining room one night we saw a fork on the floor. Without hesitation Dad stopped, bent down and swept it up with great grace. The manager had seen him start his move and said, That s okay. I ll get it. Dad said, No, I can do it. I knew what Dad would say to me next. He said, I m testing myself. I told that to the manager and he seemed satisfied that Dad s move was not, somehow, a subtle dig at the housekeeping.

Dad played games with himself for many years, and, so far as I know, for all his life. At first, it had to do with getting around. He could have taken buses from one meeting in town to another. Instead, he might walk eight blocks to where he was going, even though he was over 85 years old. He did this to test himself.

Years after that, he could have taken a taxi to go from place to place, but instead he would take buses. Sometimes the buses would be crowded; sometimes in cold weather they wouldn t run on time. But, he wanted to do that instead of taking a taxi, because he wanted to see if he could do it.
If he managed to get a seat on the bus, he wouldn t hesitate to give it up to a woman with a child in tow. It didn t make any difference that teenagers weren t giving up their seats or that he was over 80.

One day he said to me, I m getting old. I said, What do you mean?

He said, Now everybody passes me on the street.

Dad then explained that for years he would walk down the street and if people were going his way he would test himself by walking fast enough so that they couldn t pass him. Now, he says, everyone passes me on the street.
At that moment I understood. For years Dad had been playing a secret game in which he was running a race with other pedestrians who don t even know the rules of the game.

So be advised: If some day you see a frail, elderly man shuffling along with a cane, beware! You may be in a race with someone like Joseph Ominsky, and God will bless you if you just ease up a little so that he can get to the corner ahead of you.