A Micro-Tribute to John Prine & WW II Vets

A TWO MINUTE READ

I find it intriguing how much some seemingly benign visuals can stay with us, or even haunt us. As I was scanning the photos that I’d recently taken at our 4th of July parade, I came across a photo of a group called “Cycling Without Age.” Within that photo was this roughly 97-year-old WW II vet — dwarfed by the average-sized young man next to him.

This could have very well been a picture of my father, a Navy veteran who died at age 87 in 2011. We had a generally crappy relationship, but as my memories of him came back, I responded with more pity, and less anger and sadness than usual. This frail gentleman like my Dad, watched his “manhood” and relevance in society slowly leak away, but he probably got more attention and respect during the parade, than most WW II vets have gotten over the last years of their lives.

And, I was happy for him.

So much of our day to day existence in the twenty-first century is transactional and the older people get, the less transacting they do - and the more invisible they become.

The elderly and the “rest of us,” are not separate entities - we’re just at different places on life’s continuum. Aging is much like a spectrum disorder. It’s in part different however, as many of us get to choose - whether to grow or just wither as we move along.

I’ll let the late John Prine give my Benediction.

“Hello In There” © was written in 1971 when John was 22 years of age.

“ . . . So if you're walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare
As if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello."

Chorus

You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder every day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello."