For many years as the boy stood at the end of the lane with his siblings waiting for the school bus, there was a man their parents knew named Irv who would drive by on his way to work in his vintage Model T Ford. Because the boy had a fascination with cars he always watched for Irv and his cool car.
Years later when the boy was grown and now a policeman he was called to a disturbance at a home. When he arrived, an elderly man was laying on the floor in a fetal position alternately sobbing and yelling belligerently. The man’s adult daughter was standing near-by, crying.
When the officer asked what was going on, the woman explained that she and her husband could no longer take care of her father because his dementia was getting worse. But when they told him an elder care home now had room for him and they would be taking him there that evening, he had immediately become uncontrollable.
The officer approached the man on the floor, trying to think what he could do to help the situation. But when he got down close to the man he realized who he was … it was Irv, the man he remembered from his childhood who owned the Model T Ford he had so admired. He called the man by name and told him he was Art’s son. And then he began to tell Irv his memories of his early morning waves to Irv in his great antique car. Irv immediately quieted as he listened to the young officer’s memories of the old car he had restored himself and so enjoyed driving for years.
After a few minutes of reminiscing, the officer helped Irv to his daughter’s car and then left, sad to see a man from his past in such poor health, but glad that the memories he had shared with Irv had helped calm him.
Hubby was a police officer for 36 years so I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that he can still occasionally tell me a story from that time that I have never heard before. He told me this story a couple days ago when something jogged his memory.