Listen to Your Elders

Across from my cubicle is an ancient co-worker everyone tells me he’s 80something (older than god), loves to talk about trains, and (with a nudge nudge, wink wink) just got married. They’ve trained me on the strategy for avoiding him: look busy, avoid eye contact and make sure you LOOK BUSY. Despite the warnings, I’ve decided to listen to him and his stories about a different America, unimaginable to my technology accustomed eyes. Because my cubicle is by a busy thoroughfare, I often get ‘knowing’ looks from passers-by when I’m talking to our wizened co-worker. These looks cause me despair because they convey some kind of comradery of endurance in appeasement. I’m deeply bothered to think about people evading and avoiding me at the end of my life, dreading to hear my experiences, perspectives and opinions. This man asks for nothing but some time in exchange for stories filled with valuable information about experiences that will soon be Hollywood sets and fading pictures. His physical abilities are fading, the neurons have slowed, but the memories are vivid and in need of a home before this home re-enters the life force. The least I can do is listen, process and let him know he is still needed. Interacting with him has me thinking about what I want the end of my life to be, who I want to be and the stories I will tell. What will your end of life be like? What stories do you want to tell?