Listen To Your Elders

Ok, things are getting serious. I have 1 day 14 hours.

It's almost 11 a.m. in London and it's raining. I couldn't imagine a better Monday. Honestly. I've been aching for some cool weather and the rain. I was talking to my friend James Kanimba the other day before I got to England and he said, "Maybe if you're lucky it'll rain." But I am lucky. and it is raining. It's 59 degrees and I'm wearing jeans. I'm wearing a sweater. I'm wearing my scarf. These clothes feel good.

I have a couple little stories I'd love to send your way. Here's one of the more recent ones.

I was in Paris right before getting on the train for London on Saturday and I sat at the little restaurant there at the Gare du Nord station and a little old couple came and asked if they could sit with me because there were no other free tables. I of course was delighted for them to join me and I asked if they were on holiday. The gentleman told me that "When you're our age, you don't need to take a holiday. It's all holiday, just in a different place." Here are some things I fould out about Harold and Christine. Harold and Christine Pooley just celebrated their Diamond Anniversary. (That's 60 years if you're not familiar with the scale). Harold and Christine have travled all over the world together. He's crazy about steam trains and they have taken steam trains all over the UK, the US, Eastern Europe, Russian, and they've traveled all over Asia and Europe together. Harold is 88. Christine is 83. Harold flew planes during World War II and did training in Canada. He was warned not to fly over Niagra Falls because the US wasn't involved at the time.
Harold and Chrstine almost crossed pathes twice before finally finding eachother. Harold was 8 and living in South London and Christine was 3 and living in North London and they both got Scarlet Fever at the same time and were taken to the same hospital in Central London. They were both in quarentine and remember the smell. Years later when Christine was finishing school and Harold was in the service, she lived in a house that had a back garden that touched the edge of the base he was training at. Finally Chrstine finished school, the war was almost over, and she got a job at an insurance company. Harold had worked there for a year before he joined the Army and when all was said and done he came back to work at the firm Chrstine was now working for.

The rest is an absolute dream. They received a framed photograph of the Queen in the mail for making it to their diamond wedding anniversary.

I told them about Joshua and me and how we've been married for almost two years. They said, "Only another 58 to go!" I said maybe we'll move to England so we can get a photo of the queen too. I told them Josh and I have big plans for traveling together. They said, "Wonderful! You're young! You have your whole lives ahead of you. You have so much time to be together and enjoy it that these 3 years apart will seem like nothing."

We chatted a bit more about this and that. About the statue of Crazy Horse, about Old Faithful, about the steam engine train in Colorado. They said, "Oh, we hope we haven't bored you here, talking so much." I assured them, no it was more than wonderful to have chatted with them. We began to finish our drinks and pay the waitress and Christine touched me on the arm and said, "Sarah, we hope you and your husband are as happy as we've been lucky enough to be for the past 60 years, traveling together and all."

I told her this was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to us.

They have successfully lived our dream. They have lived the kind of life Joshua and I talk about every time we speak to eachother. All the places we want to go. All the funny things we can't wait to do together. We always talk about what we're going to be like when we're 60 and 70 and 80 and we always say we'll still be going places and discovering new things and meeting new people and listening to new music and still living. Together. It's not an impossible thing. Harold and Chrstine are doing it right now. I was so moved by them and their encouragment. By their delight in eachother and their stories and their attitudes and their blessing for Joshua and me. Everyone has warm wishes for us. They all mean so much. Harold and Christine had the kind of warm wishes that are specific to a couple who has just celebrated their diamond anniversary.

There was so much beauty in this encounter that it made me let go of an ugly encounter I'd had about a week prior.

To make a long story short, a few of us had decided to go to our favorite "Irish" pub in Aix for a drink and we sat next to these two guys, one from England named Jason who was in his 30's or 40's, married, and a helicoptor scientist. The other guy's name was Stan. Also in his 30's or so and from Australia. Stan was loud, rude, obnoxious, drunk, and obscene. Some inappropriate conversation was brought up by Stan and I said, "Excuse me, I am married and rather uncomfortable with this conversation. I think we should change the subject."
Stan then wanted to get into a political debate about Iraq but not until asking me, "Will it last? Tell me, is it going to last?" in reference to our marriage. I could barely get two words out about our relationship before he moved on to the subject of Iraq. "They're dying! They're dying over there!" I looked him straight in the face and said "You're telling ME they're dying? You are. Telling. Me?" I was so offended and angered by his audacity that I said, "I'm leaving. No, I'm leaving," stood up in tears, and left. I was angry for days.

Joshua said I'd done the right thing, to just get up and leave because people like that cannot even be reckoned with. There's no point in trying to talk to people like that. And he's right. There are people like Harold and Christine in the world.

Before we left the station, Christine told Harold to push up his glasses, they were slipping down his nose. He leand in and said, "Huh?" She smiled and pushed them up gently for him. He grinned a little sheepishly.

I can't wait to push up Joshua's glasses for him when he can't hear me tell him they're slipping.