Trail of Peanuts

Trail of Peanuts

Often times we take for granted the elderly we come across. It's intriguing what stories they have from their past, what lessons they have learned, or just get some warm fuzzies from spending time with the lonely and forgotten. Just recently, the opportunity presented it's self to sit and chat with a war vet at Ann Morrison park in Boise, Idaho.

I was sitting on a plastic park bench, enjoying the beautiful blue skies, the 74 degree weather, and the slight breeze that made for a perfect day at the park. The laughter and squeals of delight from my children playing could be heard in the distance. A little old man in a roundabout mobility chair sat and smiled at my children playing. His zippy red chair wheeled past me and I managed to get out a cheerful "hello!" His face lit up and he had an immediate sparkle in his eye when he met mine and responded with "Why, hello to you too!"

He was dressed for the occasion in an obviously well worn ball cap on his head, a plaid fleece blanket covering his thin legs and lap, and a few layers of flannel with an outer windbreaker. You could tell he was in need of conversation. In the wicker basket zip-tied to the front of his cart he had a bag of peanuts from WinCo, some candies, photos in a photo envelope and tissue. It seems the elderly always carry tissue. Obviously, he was willing to share more than just peanuts with the squirrels.

He wheeled near the bench after completing his U turn and stopped by me. "So, you're a vet?" I inquired of him. "Yes. I served 5 years on an aircraft carrier during the war" he responded. "That's awesome! I went into the Navy out of high school, and my kids dad is a former Marine." He chuckled and said "Once a Marine, always a Marine." I nodded my head and said "Yeah, I suppose you're right!" The conversation flowed easily between us. We chatted back and forth about military, about life, and how we wound up in Boise.

As we kept talking, I realized I didn't get his name. "Do you mind me asking your name?" The old man smiled, "My name is Jerry. Jerry." I grinned, "Hello Jerry, I'm Amy. It's a pleasure to meet you. What are you doing here today?" Jerry sat there for a moment, took a handful of peanuts from his wicker basket and flung them to the ground. "I love to come here and feed the squirrels and watch the children play. Sometimes I watch the bands that come out during the summer, or a soccer game. I like to watch the men who walk around in kilts and play those things" he said as he made a flute like gesture with his hands. "Ah!" I said, "Bagpipes?" He nodded and smiled.

"So, if you don't mind, how old are you?" I asked. Jerry smiled with pride, just ear to ear. "Ninety, nearly ninety-one." I had a long pause of silence... "Wow Jerry! You look great for 90!" He reached back into his basket for another handful of peanuts and threw them in a different spot this time. "So, I'm guessing you're twenty two" he said with a chuckle. I grinned. "No, but I get that a lot. I'm actually almost 29." He was shocked.

Jerry inspected the bikes I had parked near the bench I sat on. "So, are you guys going on a bike ride?" I nodded. He looked at my children and nodded his head, as if he understood that I was biting off more than I could chew. My children skipped up to Jerry and I introduced them. His eyes lit up and he whispered "can they have a piece of candy?" I said "sure!" He reached in again into his wicker basket and pulled out a handful of treats and put them into my cupped hand. The girls were elated with their gift from our new friend.

Jerry kept looking at his watch. I was worried that he had somewhere to go or needed to be. "Am I keeping you from something?" Jerry shook his head no. "I go when I need to go, no need to dismiss myself." Typical sailor... We continued to talk for about an hour total on everything from married life, his time as a geological teacher in LA, all the places we've lived and worked... It seemed there was nothing we didn't brush on.

Once again, he reached into his basket and he pulled out a white plastic bag. "I think I'm heading home and will have this chicken breast for supper." He paused. "Chicken breast and some soup." I nodded my head and frowned a little. "Well, that sounds delicious!" I realized this little old man had a worthwhile visit and didn't want to keep us from our bike ride. "I'm out here everyday, you know? It would be wonderful to run into you guys again. Your kids are so cute." I kept back tears. "I would love to run into you again. I have no surviving grandfather and no family here, so I hope so..."

Jerry gave no goodbye. Just a big toothy-dentured grin and waved farewell. I sat there for a moment, gathering my feelings and thought about Jerry and what I just experienced. Was the conversation perhaps the last he'd have with someone face to face? Would I run into him again? What if I adopted him and took care of him every once in a while? I then gathered the girls for their ride. I looked around and didn't see Jerry. He said he lived close enough by that he just rides his cart to get to the park.

Along the Boise bench, there are a few ways to go for a ride. I decided on a whim which way to turn as we were confronted with diverging paths. With each turn, and each path I followed, a peanut here and there would be dropped along the way. Some were crushed with passing traffic, some were just as if he left them there a moment ago. Every peanut that laid on the ground, was some piece of Jerry's heart, his kindness, and a moment of happiness for him. I was grateful to have followed his path long enough to know he at least made it most of the way home safely, and that I could see there is still joy in the simple things.

What I learned from Jerry and his peanuts will remain with me forever. What he got from me, remains unknown. However, I hope for at least a few days, he will remember the moment when he felt important enough that a perfect stranger would take interest in him and the story he had to tell. I am now worried about the day that I may not see him again. He has touched my heart in a big way. I will continue to look for his trail of peanuts and in that remember his kindness for the time he gives to the simple things in life.

Gas to Ann Morrison Park: $2.30
Jerry's sack of peanuts: $3.37
The lesson I learned: Priceless