Are We There Yet?

October 15-21, 2018

By Jay Edwards

jedwards@dailydata.com

 

“The past – the wild charge at the head of his men up San Juan Hill; the first years of his marriage when he worked late into the summer dusk down in the busy city for young Hildegarde whom he loved; the days before that when he sat smoking far into the night in the gloomy old Button house on Monroe Street with his grandfather – all these had faded like unsubstantial dreams from his mind as though they had never been. He did not remember.”

 

– F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”

 

The other day a friend told me about a recent visit with her dad, who’s in an assisted living facility.

 

He had received one of those mass produced form sales letter that ended with, “Call back today and find out more.”

 

He showed it to his daughter and after she finished reading it he asked what she thought. She told him she thought he ought to throw it away, because he didn’t need life insurance, not at his age.

 

“But it says right here at the top that I qualify,” he told her.

 

“But you don’t need it.”

 

“And it says I don’t even have to get a physical.”

 

“You don’t need it, dad.”

 

He was holding the letter in his frail hands, and she could see he was thinking seriously while he studied it. She also noticed the wedding ring that her mother had put on his finger over 60 years ago was loose and about to slip past his middle knuckle. Finally, he sighed and told her, “Well, if you say so. I’ll just call her back and tell her no thank you.”

 

“No dad, you don’t have to call her back.”

 

“But it says right here at the bottom to call back.”

 

“No dad, don’t call her back.”

 

“Well, it certainly seems like I ought to.”

 

Now the daughter sighed. “It says to call back and find out more. You aren’t getting it so what more do you want to find out?”

 

He thought about that and a sly grin began to form slowly on his face, and for a moment she thought he looked exactly like Brad Pitt as Benjamin Button, in the beginning when he was the old little boy.

 

Her father looked her in the eye and proudly said, “I need to call her back so she can tell me the other reasons I need it.”

 

“Bingo,” his daughter shot back.

 

“Why do you say that?” He asked her.

 

“Dad, do you remember a few years ago when we went to visit Aunt Sissy, and could barely get in the front door because she had bought 1000 rolls of toilet paper?”

 

“Oh yes,” he said, now laughing, “how could I ever forget that. And I think she still had over three hundred rolls left when she died.”

 

“That’s right,” the daughter said, laughing too. “And remember you thought we should use it for a tip for the movers.”

 

“Well, it’s as good as gold in some countries,” he smiled.

 

“This insurance letter is like that in a way. Not like the toilet paper exactly, but more like the stuff toilet paper is used for.”

 

He stared at her for a long moment and then began laughing, long and hard. And she joined in until they were both crying and laughing and crying some more, trying to catch their breaths.

 

She looked at the little man through her damp eyes and was overcome by something she hadn’t felt for a very long time.

 

She bent over, as they both still giggled softly, and picked up the letter, which he had dropped to the floor during the sudden burst of hysterics.

 

“Are you going to throw it away?” He asked.

 

“No, I think I’ll keep it. But first I’m going to call and thank her for sending it to you. I love you daddy.”

 

“I love you too, honey,” he said back reflexively, slightly more than a little confused.

  • Jay Edwards
    Jay Edwards