On a flight to Texas last month, I sat between two older people who were very still and quiet as the stewardess prepared everyone for takeoff. An older lady on my right, and an older man on my left, both appeared to be in their late seventies or eighties, with their silvery gray hair and deeply creased faces.
The older lady on my right asked sweetly, “Can you please help me buckle my seatbelt? I can’t figure this thing out.” As I helped her with the seatbelt, the older man on my left fumbled his cup of coffee, spilling the remains on the floor. I smiled as the stewardess passed him some napkins, and wondered if they were scared. Had they ever flown before? Did they have family? Why were they alone?
The plane took off and we all settled in for the hour and twenty minute ride. As I mindlessly flipped through the SkyMall magazine, I thought about how much life the two of them had seen. Their aged hands, with sunspots and wrinkles, had experienced far more than me, in my suddenly young-feeling 23 years. I wanted to know their story, but wasn’t sure how to ask, so I shyly tried to make conversation with one, and then the other.
The sweet old man in jeans and a denim shirt traveled Europe during WWII, seeing “just about everything.” When he got back from the war, he purchased a homestead in Montana where he and his brother grew beets, alfalfa sprouts, soybeans and other things. He met the love of his life, married her after two months, and they had 5 kids who are all grown and living around the U.S. Six years ago, he lost his sweet wife to cancer, after being diagnosed only 2 months earlier. It was a shock, but he smiled and seemed relieved to know she isn’t sick and in pain anymore. His eyes spoke so kindly of her as he shared about his life.
Katherine, on the other hand, was from Arkansas. She was a teacher all of her life until her husband died several years ago. At that point, her sons bought a house for her right next door to them, and now take care of her, while still letting her be independent. There was something about her that made me want to laugh… she seemed kind of sneaky, like there was some kind of secret she wasn’t telling me. Like, maybe she was actually Bill Clinton’s mom or someone famous. Who knows.
As the plane landed, I suddenly realized that I had not asked either of them for their name. I would remember this plane ride for the rest of my life, but would never really know who I had spent time talking to. Then we shook hands. Paul, 89, from Montana. Katherine, 84, from Little Rock.
