Pull Up a Chair 06.07.16

I made a new friend on my walk around the neighborhood today – Mario. I learned more about Mario in our 15 minutes together than I could have possibly imagined. But first, let me tell you how our meeting came to pass.

When I would walk in the mornings I would encounter an older woman and her yellow lab usually walking in the opposite direction. Even though she was getting her exercise on she was always well put together; hair, make up, neatly pressed shorts and top and blindingly white sneakers. I fear that the bar for exercise attire will be far lower in the future and that leaving the house in an American Apparel trucker’s cap and a sports bra that fits will show that you put some thought into your appearance. Upon seeing me she would smile and wave and we would always exchange pleasantries about the weather or some such. I never knew her name, though I did learn that her dog’s name was Maverick, and I knew where she lived and that she drove a spotless black late model Toyota Four Runner that I would see her husband driving on Sunday mornings on their way to church.

She was a part of my daily routine. Until she wasn’t. It had been several months since I had seen her and I wondered what had become of her. Today when I was walking I encountered her husband sitting in a lawn chair in their driveway. He was taking a break from cutting the grass and enjoying a Diet Coke. As I strolled past I waved and said hello and he did the same. Their house is on a loop that I walk by twice. As I approached the second time he was still sitting in his chair and I thought to myself, should I inquire about his wife? Would he be put off by a stranger asking him about her? What would I say when he responded? (Hint: The answer is NOTHING). As our eyes met for the second time I decided to walk up his driveway. I extended my hand and introduced myself to him. He told me that his name was Mario. I had been formulating in my head the words I wanted to say to broach the topic of his wife and I honestly don’t even remember what I said. It didn’t matter. Someone he had never met, but who knew of his wife, had given him an opportunity to talk about her.

The conversation that unfolded was a mixture of both joy and sadness. His wife’s name was Alma. He said her nickname was “Soul” (alma is the Spanish word for soul). On Dec. 22nd she was complaining about a pain in her side and went to the doctor. The doctor didn’t think anything of it, but ordered an x-ray nonetheless. The x-ray revealed a massive tumor surrounding her gall bladder that had spread to her liver and the lining of her stomach. On December 31st, New Year’s Eve, Mario & Alma went to M.D. Anderson in Houston where she had her first and last chemotherapy treatment as her body couldn’t tolerate it. She passed away on February 5th, 6 weeks after her initial visit to the doctor.

Mario told me all of this with very little emotion in his voice. He said that they had been together for 62 years. They had 5 children born within a span of 7 years. Two of them live in the area, one in Virginia, one in the Rio Grande Valley and I forgot where he said the 5th one lived. He took a great deal of pride in telling me about his eldest daughter (she’s a year younger than me) who came and stayed with him after Alma died. She has a PhD in electrical engineering and works for the UT System. Mario told me he was in the service for 16 years and worked on B-52 bombers. After leaving the military he received training and became a software programmer. When he and Alma moved into their new house in 1975 they were one of the first ones on the block. He told me he’s having trouble sleeping at night. He uses a push lawnmower that he paid $100 for. There’s a white squirrel that frequents his backyard. All of this information in the span of 15 minutes.

I probably could have pulled up a chair and talked to Mario all afternoon. And really, was there anything I had to do today that was more important or rewarding? Not really. I don’t know how many more opportunities I’ll have to visit with Mario, but you can be sure that every time I see him out on my walk I’m going to make a point to stop and chat with him. I’m so glad I did today.

Oh, and one final note. He told me that he had noticed me on my walks LIMPING and was impressed that I didn’t let it hold me back. I’m now convinced that the entire neighborhood refers to me as “Hopalong” behind my back.