I had a man in his late 80s come into my office, cane and all. He spoke slow and deliberately and had a thin glaze over his very experienced eyes. He sat down, made himself comfortable and asked me to relaminate his retiree card, a task that usually takes 15 seconds. While the card proceeded to laminate, he went on to tell me about the issues he was having with his wifes expired passport and how certain offices dont communicate with each other (very true story). He retired in the late 80s and has lived in Korea ever since. As he spoke, I heard a VERY familiar twang in his soft voice. Thats an AL twang. Could I ask you a qustion, sir, I asked, very curious to see if I truely knew my accents, Are you from Alabama? He replied, Yes, I got in a fight once in Birmingham because I told someone I was from Alabama. But my official home is Lynn Haven, just north of Panama City. Ive been watching the news about all the spring breakers there....none of that happened when I was there... I bet! I told him I was from Fort Walton Beach. He said he almost moved there in 1954, when it was a 30 minute drive through the country to Eglin AFB. I told him it was quite the pretty city in those days (as I refered back to the historical photos of my grandfathers community and the photos at local museums). It was such a breathe of fresh air to speak with this man. The literal and figurative symbol of my home. Im so glad I engaged with him instead of tapped my feet like a young person brat, wondering why this stranger was wasting my time. I hold this old man, Max, dear to my heart until I can see Fl again. After our chat, I introduced myself and bid him farwell, from a fellow Panhandler.
Posted on: Thu, 03 Apr 2014 01:40:33 +0000
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