Helping Elderly Men Cross the Street

It's been a while, and I thought I'd take time to reflect.

I was walking in uptown Oxford the other night, and had a very unexpected experience. I was waiting to cross the street, and a woman, who looked to be in her 50s and a man who looked to be in his 80s waited on the opposite side of the street. As traffic dissipated, we both started to cross. I watched as the woman led the man (presumably her father) across the street by his arm. It was roughly 60 degrees outside, but he was bundled up and looked to be hunkered down for a blizzard. It was very cute. As I observed them crossing the street, I became captivated by their conversation. She was telling him to hold on tight, hurry up, and other polite directions. He was taking very small steps, and not walking too quickly as his age was certainly limiting his speed. He told her that he didn't want to be out too late tonight, because he wanted to watch the Cleveland Indians, because they had a chance to close out the division tonight and earn a playoff berth.

When I heard that statement, I almost stopped in the crosswalk. It might as well have been my (late) grandfather crossing the street with my mother. In fact, for me, it was. I smiled at the couple as we met, both going our opposite directions. I was filled for the next few minutes with thoughts of my grandfather. It was incredibly emotional. Here was a man, late in his life, scared to cross the street, dressed in winter clothes during the summer, unhappy about the inconvenience of going out, and all he could think about was that he had to be home at 7:05 to watch the Indians. My grandfather, an avid Red Sox fan, was the same way. Regardless of how his body was failing him later in life, he was still concerned with the Red Sox, and even the Yankees. (Of course he was only concerned that the Yankees didn't win, or steal a coveted free agent away from the Sox.)

This is a very special time of the year for me. Baseball is a big part of my life, and that can be largely attributed to my grandfather. Playoff baseball is a magical experience for me, and sometimes all it takes is a happenstance interaction with an elderly stranger to remind me why.