Learning to Walk Again

"Everything in life is a compromise. You deal with it and move on."
/
Life is too strange for it to be one random coincidence after another. About two months ago I got to know a man named Fred. He's about 65 years old, maybe 70. A full beard and head of gray hair. Strong Southern accent, from a part of Texas not far from San Antonio. He walks slowly and with a slight limp. Reason is last year he had a stroke that debilitated the left side of his body. He still has no strength in his left arm.
/
I spent one of the most depressing afternoons of my life with Fred, at a Chinese buffet directly across from my high school in Warminster, Pa. Sitting there in that restaurant, as I stared at the brick face of my alma mater, all I could think was, "My life has gone nowhere since graduation day, nearly 18 years ago." Across from us sat an old married couple; the wife was severely overweight and could barely walk. She didn't seem able to chew her food normally, not even Jell-O. Husband and wife both looked miserable. In fact, everyone in the restaurant looked miserable and invariably unsuccessful. After we left the restaurant I stopped at the wine store to buy a few bottles of red and then went home to break a knuckle on a stubborn piece of furniture.
/
I've seen Fred three times since that day in early January. He's got me doing some freelance work for him, writing about things such as alternative energy sources: algae, wind, biochar, etc. It reminds me of work I did 10 years ago when I was PR director for an advertising agency in the Philadelphia suburbs. Traveling in circles that seemed a bit too familiar further reinforced the feeling that life had taken me nowhere ... or I let it take me nowhere. But I've come to look past those feelings and actually learn something.
/
Getting to know Fred has reminded me of the Mitch Albom book, "Tuesdays with Morrie." He tells me about his many inventions, about how complicated things work, about engineering and physics principles I am supposed to understand and then craft into paragraphs of dumbed-down prose. He's also teaching me about things I never knew I cared about. The quote at the top of the page, for instance -- "Everything in life is a compromise ..." -- is one of his.
/
He's a brilliant man, so he's smart enough to not let "speed bumps" bother him or keep him from reaching his goals. He is a winner, despite all the hurdles that have been placed in front of him. For example, he never planned on losing a child but he did almost 20 years ago, and he never planned on having a stroke that would rob him of his mobility. He has recovered from surviving one his own children and has also learned to manage the aftereffects of his stroke -- yet another compromise. He's driving again. His steps are much surer. He's slowly regaining the use of his left hand so he can get back to tinkering in the metal shop and doing something as simple as turning the pages of a book he's reading. Clearly, he's a highly adaptable survivor.
/
Funny thing about Fred: He may be brilliant, but he's also a child in that he hasn't lost the sense of wonder that abandons so many of us once we hit high school. He still likes to learn new things. He still takes things apart to see how they work. Age hasn't stopped him from growing and challenging himself and getting dirty, even with hurdles that might seem insurmountable to other people.
/
The first time I met Fred, I honestly wasn't sure I wanted to meet him a second time because I thought working with him meant taking a step or two backward in my life. Now I see he's forcing me to move forward.