Walker envy. It’s a thing. I know because I’ve seen it down to Mahoosuc Green, where my dad lives. Their motto there is “experience your finest senior moments with us.” Jury’s still out on that one, but I gotta say, it’s a pretty nice place. Dad has a cute little apartment. He eats a meal in the dining room every day and plays “Beano” as he calls it, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evening. In March, my dad will turn 86. His days of golfing, bowling, and dating may be behind him, but there’s still a lot of life left in the old duffer.
Dad learned the hard way that his walker is his friend when he fell last January, and
ended up with a short stay in the hospital and a long week in rehab. Boy, did he hate that. Every time my sister Irene or me visited, he’d ask to go home. Pleaded with us, really. But it didn’t end there, because when he finally did get home, he needed six weeks of OT, PT, and visiting nurses. “I can’t wait for this to be over,” he’d whine. “Every day some gal shows up and bosses me around.” Ever since then, he uses his walker to go everywhere. No augment.
Dad has what you’d call the Cadillac of walkers. It’s not one of those deals with the tennis balls on the legs. No way. It’s got four sturdy wheels and a seat for when you’re tired. Of course, that make it heavy. Dad and me do at least one field trip a week. Some times we do what I call the senior triathlon: breakfast down to the Busy Bee, doctor appointment, and a visit to Rite Aid. Who needs to lift weights? At this point, my strength training consists mainly of wrestling that walker in and out of my car!
There are about eighty women and fifteen men down to The Green. That’s about the average, they tell me. One day, Irene and me were there waiting with dad to take the elevator to the second floor where his apartment is. That evaluator is slow as a turtle. Finally, it reached the ground level. The door opened, and one old woman with a walker after another shuffled out. I mean, they just kept coming. Irene mutters under her breath, “It’s like a clown car.”
A few months ago, this new guy, Tony, took over organizing the Mahoosuc Green Men’s Group. Hallelujah! What a blessing that’s been for dad. The guys meet twice a month. One meeting a month they have a get together where they try to solve problems down to The Green. You know, like we need a trash can in the parking garage so we can keep our cars clean. Or let’s have sample meals outside the dining room so we can see what heck we’re ordering. It makes them feel useful. They have lunch after in the Bistro down the hall.
And once a month, Tony organizes a mystery trip. The guys have no idea where they’re going, just that it’ll include lunch at some restaurant along the way. So far, they’ve been to a barrel making factory, a stage coach museum, and a brewery. Tony’s smart keeping it a mystery. I don’t know if dad would sign up to go to a barrel making factory, but, you know, he found it really interesting.
My dad says the only thing wrong with the Men’s Group is that now the women what to join. I know! I don’t get it. Do they think the guys are having too much fun? They already have a Women’s Group. Plus, they have flower arranging and I don’t know what all, but apparently, that’s not enough.
Here’s the deal. As anyone will tell you, getting old is hard. But it’s especially hard for a man. Men of my dad’s generation took pride in being in being able to support their families. My dad could repair most anything around the house. He loved playing sports and dancing down to the VFW. He can’t do any of those things now. He can’t even drive his car to McDonalds to get a senior cup of coffee and a cheese burger because he gave up driving last fall and we sold his car. It’s hard to feel manly when you can’t do what a man likes to do. He and his buddies down to Mahoosuc Green need a place where they can be guys again.
So listen up, gals: when those evaluator doors open up and all those guys with their walkers file out on their way to the bus, you stand aside and let ‘em go. They’re men on a mission!
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
Hear Ida Tell It: Walker Wars
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