I don't know if I'll be able to convey the appropriate feelings with this post, but I'll give it a shot...

My rent-paying job is doing overnights at an agency that helps emotionally disturbed teenagers. I work in one of the residential buildings. That's where I do most of my blogging and other web mischief. So I was at work last night, minding my own business and all of a sudden the door bell rings... I look out the window and there's this old dude wandering around. So I answer the door and this guy - he's 81 years old - is lost...really lost. He's not even near his house. He set out for Walmart a long-ass time ago and ended up here at 2:30am.

So we call his son-in-law to come get him and while we're waiting...well, first the guy wets himself. I take him inside (which I'm really not supposed to do) to use the bathroom. When he's finished we're waiting for the SIL...he's telling me about his church - how he's a Deacon in it and he'll have to use this as a story when he speaks, etc. But then all of a sudden the conversation goes political. (I swear, I was being a good boy, minding my own business)

He starts telling me how he has been helping The War Criminal with some problems with Social Security and that he is also in correspondence with Oliver North of all people about the immigration problem. He then starts on how our country's getting overrun with Mexicans and that they all need psychiatric help.

Now all the while I'm just nodding and doing the "uh-huh" thing. I mean, this guy just got lost from Walmart, for all I know he's been corresponding about Mexicans with the credit card people whose offers he gets in the mail. And dude's not really saying all this in a mean-spirited way, but it really seemed like he just took stuff he read, saw on TV, etc and just spewed it back at me.

Both he & his family were grateful for the help we gave him and they left, but the overriding thing about this was a feeling of pathos. The guy was really feeling sorry for himself as he was recognizing that his not being able to find his way home and loss of bladder control were signs that he was nearing the end. That there was a lot left he wanted to accomplish and that he wanted to remain vital. That's what really struck me throughout this whole thing.

I wish it had one of those "so now I'm gonna live every day like it was my last" kind of effects, but it didn't. Maybe it'll be just another brick in the wall.

[Wow...that's 2 bad song references in one week. I better watch it]

Technorati Tags: aging, senility, oliver north, immigration, mexicans