I was out for my evening “run” last night (which is actually more of a trot or a shuffle) and I had a remarkable experience.
As I was heading out Belmont Road in Grand Forks and complaining to myself about the persistent headwind, I passed an old man and said “Hi” as I usually do. He was walking with a cane, and presumably out enjoying the same lovely fall day that I was ruining for myself by running.
He said, as I ran past, “It’s been a long time since I could do that.”
I responded, “I’m just trying to hang on for as long as I can,” thinking about the fall weather.
He didn’t hear me so I doubled back to tell him what I said. When I got back to him he told me a story completely unprompted.
He said that when he was in about second or third grade, the concrete sidewalk where we were standing had buckled a bit and had fallen apart. He and his two friends where riding their bikes down this little hill and Johnny Erikson’s front wheel grabbed on the crumbling concrete sending him over the handlebars and skinning his knees badly. He then told me that they sat there a while while he bawled because they weren’t doctors and didn’t really know what to do. When Johnny stopped crying they went on their way.
He then pointed to the massive elm tree by the side of the road and said, “This tree was there then and it was large, just as it is now…. and that must have been, well, at least 50 years ago.”