Conversation in the Park

 As I attempt to write more often this summer, most posts will be of glimpses into my daily life. They often will not include photos. 

~~~

Today, in an effort to beat the heat, I decided to go for my daily walk before breakfast. It was already 78 degrees out and very humid, with a forecast calling for 94 degrees and even more humidity. As I passed people, I commented how we were going to get it done before the heat kicked in.

I smiled as I passed a group of elementary school campers joyfully running around under the watchful eye of their leader. As seems appropriate these days, I steered clear of the group so they were not nervous about having an strange adult with them. As a white woman of a certain age (read: old enough to be the grandmother of each of the campers), I don't pose a threat, but I still didn't want to raise anyone's spidey sense. 

Up and around the the former bocce field to add in an extra 300 steps. Passed the half dozen campers again, now playing water games.

I waved to more people -- mostly people older than me also trying to beat the heat. I made my same comment to a 6 foot 3 inch tall, white man I guessed to be in his mid to late late 70s and he replied with what turned out to be the first of many stories about when he was stationed at the foothills of the Bavarian Mountains in late October. Within a week a huge snowstorm hit dumping about 5 feet of snow on the ground (his left hand indicating a mark of about 3 feet) and it stayed that way until April.

For the next 30-40 minutes we stood in the sunshine on this increasingly hot day with him sharing stories of his service and me asking a few clarifying questions. He served in the army from 1965-1968 -- best thing that ever happened to him. The army turned a boy with "my head up my butt" into the man he is today.

The army believed in him in ways his mother did not. She filled his head with negative thoughts about himself. The army filled him with knowledge about who he truly is. 

Life stories ranged when his commander ordered him to look at every page in a 1,000 page manual, then read the first and last sentences on each page, then read each page out loud. He told him he memorized the book. To prove it, two men bet on him. The commander told them to pick a page and he would recite what was on it. They chose a page at random, and, after pausing to picture turning the pages in the book and resting his mind on the page in question, he could recite what was on the page. They lost the bet and tried again, only to lose again when he recited "This page was left intentionally blank." That's when the commander told the private something he didn't know about himself: not only that he has a photographic memory, but how he can trigger the memories. This came in handy when he went to college after the military.

We moved forward to his coming home from Boston to Irvington, NJ (near Newark) on Eastern. At the time, the airfare was half price for military in uniform -- this cut the price from $12 to $6. This was 1967 and 1968. Long-haired Civilians would spit on you and curse you for serving in the military. To this day, he doesn't like it when someone (like me) says "Thank you for your service," because it feels as if they are throwing salt on that old wound carved when he was in his 20s and not appreciated for his service.

He shared stories about someone in his troop nicknamed Pineapple because he came from Hawaii with a traditional Hawaiian last name consisting of 43 letters -- all vowels -- that took three lines to write on the left pocket of his uniform (he pointed to his right side, but I followed along). Pineapple entertained German troops with the traditional Hawaiian songs his grandmother (one of the last of the traditional Hawaiians) taught him.

He told me about growing up in Irvington and how idyllic it was in the early 50s. He would leave his house at 7 am in the summer and only come home at 10 pm when Murphy, the local policeman, shooed him and the other boys home. He went back recently and saw an old woman sitting on what had been his front porch. She said one day she was watching TV and the TV went out. She turned on the light and discovered two bullet holes in the TV. Someone shot someone in the park across the street and the bullet traveled into her living room.

He shared his experiences with going to college -- he finished his bachelor's degree in just over two years by taking 29 credits the first 13-week semester, 41 over summer school's 12 week semester, and so on. All while maintaining a 3.75 GPA. He completed his MBA at night in a year. His classmates did not care for him as he set the bar quite high.

By this point I was feeling woozy, but still wanted to listen to his stories so I shifted us to the shade. Within a couple of minutes, that wasn't enough and I sat down and looked up to him. He continued to talk. I told him I need to sit in the pavilion (campers were still there, but I didn't care at this point, I looked even less threatening than I did walking by). I introduced myself and learned his name is John. He left me on a picnic bench with my head down and went on his merry way.

After hearing him say he doesn't like it when people thank him for his service, I made sure not to thank him, though it was on the tip of my tongue. As I was feeling off, I did not shake his hand, either.

Ebony, a lovely 20-something thin black woman immediately brought me a glass of water. As she continued to take care of her campers, she kept one eye out for me. A couple of strong black men talking about their workout regiment during the pandemic were there to pick up their children. I wondered if the pandemic has shifted who can pick up their kids from activities like this -- 15 years ago when Ashley was their age, seeing a dad at pick up was rare. I only remember two: Dave (Allison's dad) and Paul (Zach's dad), both of whom I still see at Wegmans or in the park.

Ebony plied me with ice cold water and offered to call someone for me, or call an ambulance. The men, with concern in their eyes, tried to encourage me to go to the ER. I must have looked exceptionally pale. I reached out to Don who was working from home a third of a mile away, but he was on a conference call. The camp was ending early that day because of the excessive heat warning. She said she would be sticking around a few minutes. I truly think she would have waited the half an hour until Don could arrive. Instead, I texted him back that I would walk home and so I did. I aimed for each patch of shade and made it home safely.

Two things that surprised me:

1) Veteran John left me when I felt dizzy.

2) Neither Ebony nor the dads at pick up offered to drive me home even though I kept saying I lived around the corner.

I wish I had thought to get Ebony's number so I could text her when I got home safely.

After eating breakfast and a couple of hours in the air conditioning, I feel like myself again.