Invisible!
My
Line of Sight
Almost
a week ago I was having coffee with friends on a Saturday morning, as we get
together every Saturday for coffee and conversation. At some point the
conversation turned to the value we senior citizens have now, for the work we
have done, as compared to decades in the past, and one of my friends recounted
her days of volunteering at one of Portland’s community radio stations. She said
that in those early days, she held an important job, which she enjoyed. Her attitude
changed when she said that if she were to return to this place today, she would
be a ghost. The way that job has changed, the education required and the
advancement in technology have caused her and countless others of us to become
invisible.
I wrote
the following short prose about five years ago and submitted it to a
publication that goes directly to senior citizens and their white picket fences
and smiling faces, my submission was rejected, twice. I then included it in my
book, “The Air In Me.” It has been revised and included here.
I was
once a man
Seen,
heard, valued, respected,
But
now, I am a ghost!
“Do
you see me?” the old man asked,
I said
“Yes.”
The
old man sipped his coffee, wanting to savor the last drops of his dark roast,
before heading out to the dark, cold and rain-filled day,
The
old man and I were the only customers, and when he spoke, it was loud enough to
fill the whole room; five tables, empty, with old rickety chairs and three
stools lining the counter.
He
said:
:
“I had
a good job, drove a limousine, a shiny new Lincoln every year for forty-one years.”
The
old man glanced outside at the pouring rain, he shrugged his shoulders and once
again looked at me while taking another sip of coffee and glancing to see how
much coffee remained in his cup.
He
then said:
“I
paid taxes, always paid my bills, never late…but you know what? Now people walk
past me as if I don’t exist.”
I
motioned to the waitress for more coffee…as she moved towards me, she walked
past the old man as if he were invisible. I asked if she would refill the old
man’s cup, she looked over at him and said, “Oh him, I forgot he was even
here,”
The
rain let up and we were about to go our separate ways. The old man tapped my
hand and said, “You see when you reach a certain age, you slowly drift out of
sight…no matter what value you provided in your youth, it doesn’t count for
much…just wait, one day, just like me, you’ll become invisible.”
The
old man stood, now bent from arthritis, bundled himself for the waiting rain,
but just before he opened the door to leave, he said to the waitress, “See you
tomorrow”
Without
looking up she waved him off saying, “Bye Dad, see you later.”
