More Than This
October 10th, 2006
One of the extraordinary pleasures in what I get to do every day is hearing other people talk about themselves. Happenstance would dictate that the vast majority of people I talk to are over 70, and while sometimes it makes me want to pick my eyes out with grapefruit spoons (because, well, sometimes I just want to talk to someone who’s in the same stage of life as me), for the most part, it makes for some truly amazing moments.
A lot of people here never cease to blow me away in some really wonderful, quiet ways, as opposed to the usual blowing away that involves asinine behavior, drunken parties and hearing my neighbor scream rude things to the Indian family playing tennis up the street.
It’s funny – I spend so much time being afraid of things. Afraid of disease, afraid of Adam getting sick or dying, afraid to have kids because I’ll love them so much that I won’t let them leave the house (or the womb) out of fear for their safety. I mean, we all have some fears, and while we don’t let them consume us, they lurk in the shadows every day. Some of them are based in reality and some of them, like the ridiculous fear I have of being homeless and drunk on the streets of New York (why, just why?), are simply silly, but they’re still there. And yet just about every day, I talk to people who’ve lived through my greatest fears and not only survived, but rebuilt an extraordinary existence.
I spend a lot of time with the elderly – more than anyone I have ever known, in fact, save for nursing home workers and retirement village entertainers – and it has truly turned out to be an unexpectedly joyful privilege. They tell me about their lives – about their heartaches and losses and triumphs – and I can’t believe how much they have lived through. It’s enough to make your head spin, or at least be very afraid to leave the house in the morning, lest you be mowed down by a garbage truck or a rogue Trans Am or, I don’t know, the plague running rampant through your neighborhood.
Roughly 75 percent of the couples I talk to are on their second marriage, and sadly, it’s rarely due to divorce. I met a man recently who had four children, three of whom were nuns scattered in convents throughout the country, while his only son died of ALS two weeks after his first wife passed away. When I met him, his second wife was going through radiation for breast cancer with a brave smile, and they held hands so tightly I thought her fingers would break. Another man, a World War II veteran, survived three typhoons in the Pacific, barely missed being carried out with the tide while shelling for cat’s eyes in China, and – 50 years later – watched his wife slowly die of cancer. And yet, he sat there with his beautiful, whip-smart second wife and they smiled at me, and laughed as they remembered the lives they had before they’d even met, when they were married to other people who moved on. It always seemed to me that listening to this kind of thing would be enough to rip your heart right out of your chest.
But talking to them, it’s nothing like that at all, but I can’t properly explain what it is like. They’re so calm and peaceful and…well, they’re so happy. I mean, they aren’t happy that their lives turned out to be nothing of what they planned when they were 25 – and trust me, not one of them has ever said that their lives turned out according to plan – but they’re content with the experiences that they had, and in the remarkable memories they made with each of their loved ones in the time that they had them, however short. Yesterday and tomorrow mean very little to how they live their lives today, and it’s just such a completely different life – albeit dangerously clichéd – than the one most of us lead that it makes you think twice, really it does.
These aren’t couples you read about in People or a national newspaper, or watch on Dateline. They aren’t celebrities, actual or manufactured, and they don’t want anything from their stories other than the pleasure of retelling them to someone who’ll listen (often I’m the first and only person to ask in a very, very long time, if ever). And it’s insanely uplifting, I swear, even though you wouldn’t think that listening to people talk about the losses that they’ve suffered would be at all. It’s just that people are nothing short of amazing in how they survive things and move on with their lives, and there is nothing quite so hopeful as knowing that if the worst happened – if the very worst happened to any of us – that we would be able to pick up, start fresh and rebuild, while honoring the memory of what we lost.
People are really something else.
*Peter Gabriel
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
20 Comments Add your own
1. Stinkypaw | October 10th, 2006 at 9:52 pm
Nicely written – we are amazing creatures (including your neighbor)!
It is always heart warming to hear about a well lived life. I love old people for that – they are real and it’s too bad we don’t listen to them more often.
Thanks for sharing!
2. Yez | October 10th, 2006 at 9:58 pm
This is a beautiful piece, Jonna, and I know that your profiles of these (paradoxically contented) people show respect and wonder.
My dad’s WWII writings inspire the same sort of… awe, and shift of perspective.
3. Freakazojd | October 10th, 2006 at 11:31 pm
This is an absolutely BEAUTIFUL post. Thank you.
4. Beth | October 11th, 2006 at 3:03 am
What a great reminder of the grace one can have when one’s life doesn’t turn out according to plan…because nothing really does, of course. Thanks for this.
5. Orange Peacock | October 11th, 2006 at 4:36 am
I’ll just run with the herd on this one and say thanks for posting this. People really are very amazing creatures, when they’re not being very wretched creatures.
6. Christine | October 11th, 2006 at 5:28 am
Lovely Jonna.
Way to make me weepy when I should be getting ready for class.
7. Suebob | October 11th, 2006 at 5:59 am
Aw. Made me cry. And so early in the morning, too.
I get the pleasure of listening to old people’s stories every day, too – my parents are 88 and 80 and have been married 60 years. I see them twice a day and I feel so lucky to still have them.
8. Debbie | October 11th, 2006 at 7:09 am
I was having a bad day, feeling all sorry for myself and then I read your post. Thank you for making me realize what is really important. Did someone really say that to the Indian family?? What the hell is wrong with some people?! By the way, just saw the pic with you and the earrings. You look great!
9. Lawyerish | October 11th, 2006 at 7:23 am
This is excellent. I have always been amazed at the resiliance of the human spirit, as incredibly cheesy as that sounds. I feel stressed in my every day life sometimes, but then I remember that I have it so easy, so good. And even if things get bad, so bad you think you can’t take it, you can still endure. Thanks for this piece.
10. Amity | October 11th, 2006 at 7:30 am
Thank you for sharing that and for being there for them to share with.
11. jes | October 11th, 2006 at 8:26 am
I’m curious about the questions you ask them. What do you ask to get them talking, to get them to answer the questions that no one has asked in a very, very long time?
12. TwoBusy | October 11th, 2006 at 8:33 am
Very nicely done.
13. Heather B. | October 11th, 2006 at 8:57 am
After this post, guess who has the honor of being quoted? That would be you…
Very good.
(also I posted a terrible, awful, no good very bad, picture of myself. your hair is way better)
14. GG | October 11th, 2006 at 9:08 am
Sigh.
I agree with everyone else – this was a beautiful post. And also fitting perfectly with the book I just finished – All the Little Live Things, by Wallace Stegner. you should totally read it if you’re in this sort of mood.
15. GG | October 11th, 2006 at 9:08 am
Ooh, and what about the Roxy Music “More Than This”? Which 10,000 Maniacs later covered…
Excellent song.
16. kelley | October 11th, 2006 at 1:13 pm
Amazing post. Like you, I tend to stew over the Hypothetical Worst Possible Case Scenarios, and for what? It’s life. It’s messy, it has surprises good and bad, and ultimately you just have to play the hand you’re dealt. It’s inspiring to know that so many people are happily living a Plan B. And it’s a great reminder to snap-out of the anxiety and into the moment!
17. amyjami | October 11th, 2006 at 1:22 pm
firstly, i just blogged about a horrible weekend because of people who are being racist without thinking they are and secondly, i’ve had the good fortune to have neighbors that are exactly like the people you describe. he’s dying and lives with his second wife. the wealth of their rich stories and the peaceful way they’re going about their lives is inspiring and uplifting. awesome post.
18. Laura | October 11th, 2006 at 9:13 pm
Amen. We’ll never see their likes again. Carpe diem, honey.
PS If you’re homeless on the streets of New York, call me collect and I’ll come get you, Okay?
19. cjblue | October 12th, 2006 at 7:49 am
Your laid-bare honesty always astounds me. You say the things out loud that I am afraid to even let myself think. We all have fears.
And I too am always astounded by the resiliency of people. I think to myself – if I ever went through what they are going through, I would completely lose it. There is no way I could handle it.
Thank you for the reminder that there is beauty in life and there is a survivor in all of us.
20. MeyerVicki22 | April 8th, 2010 at 11:33 pm
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