I Met a Man

Today on my walk to the bus stop after school, I met a man. I said hello, and something in his manner and his, "How do you do?" made me stop and ask how he was doing. We chatted a few seconds and I asked him if he lived nearby. He thought he lived on the other side of the block, but he wasn't sure. I asked him if he knew his address, but he wasn't sure of that either. He did know his name, so we walked back to my house and I looked him up in the phone book.

He wan't listed, and I began to worry just a bit. I asked if he had someone at home that I could call. He said he had a lady, but he hadn't used her actual name in so long, he couldn't remember it. I suggested looking in his wallet for something with his address on it. He pulled out a small stack of cards and on top there was a woman's name and an address, ten blocks east of here. I read out the name and he said, "That's my woman! Don't ever tell her I forgot her name."

"Should I call her to come and get you?"

"Oh, no. That would be embarrassing."

My husband had just left with our van, so I offered to walk him home. He said I didn't have to, but he seemed happy to have company. Besides, I rather doubted he would have made it back without help. There are two extremely busy, uncontrolled intersections between my house and his that can be very difficult to cross, even for someone who has no trouble walking. At this time of day it would be downright dangerous. I made a quick mental note of the number on the paper now in his hand and told him I would just go get my keys.

While inside, I dialed the number that had been in his wallet and spoke to Ann, his lady. I explained what was obviously not an unfamiliar situation to her, and told her I would begin walking with Lou east on our street towards home. She agreed to drive up and meet us.

I came back out with my keys and we set off. He gripped our rickety railing and went down our stairs very slowly and carefully. I mentally prepared to catch him should he fall. He must be at least in his 80's and his tall, bony frame wobbled a bit as we made our way. He blamed the wind when he wavered towards the edge of the sidewalk. "It's trying to blow me over." He told me about being a kid on the south side of Milwaukee and how his grandmother spoke nothing but a dialect of Polish unintelligible to most of the Milwaukee Poles around her. He also told me how he took off four months ago and walked 75 blocks. Then he got tired and sat down. The police picked him up and took him home. He said this with a tone of how nice of those policemen to drive me all the way home!

We walked less than two blocks before a brown sedan pulled over and rolled down the window. His lady had arrived. Not to embarass him, I said she must have come looking for him. They both thanked me profusely, she in English and he in both English and Polish.