By Dennis Carman — President & CEO, United Way of Greater Plymouth County
I was inspired by Nicole Long, President & CEO of OCES and her recent article celebrating Older American's Month to reflect on my grandfathers and (of course) a song comes to mind.
My grandfathers were very different from each other. My maternal grandfather, Joseph Dowell, was a ruddy Irishman who drove trolleys, then city buses, in the bustling metropolis of Brooklyn until his retirement in the 1970s. He was a joker, and I have a vivid memory of him driving down the highway in his white Plymouth Valliant with me and my brothers in the backseat. He let go of the steering wheel and commenced in singing at the top of his lungs the Beatles, "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" while my grandmother yelled in a panic from the front passenger seat, "Joe, you stop that!" His impish grin and crow's feet around his eyes are among my fondest memories of him. (See the picture at left of my Grandpa Joe with me riding on his shoulder).
My paternal grandfather, Isaac Homer Carman, was a complete contrast, a stern man from upper New York State, farm country, where after years of farming and working on machinery, he ended up in various, unrelated lines of work including working with developmentally challenged patients at what was loosely referred to as "the state school," owning his own bar, The Red Bull, and working for a local car dealership. In his retirement, he'd spend much time watching TV and hours and hours of card games of pinochle with my grandmother, Minnie. I remember when I stayed with my grandparents for a couple of weeks when I was 14 or 15 years old, I was taught to play pinochle. I remained acutely aware that if I made any mistakes ("reneging" they called it), I was likely to get loudly reprimanded by Grandpa Ike.
What still strikes me today is that, as different as my grandfathers were, I am so thankful that I got to know them both. Their life stories are so interesting, and listening to them talk was such a joy for me! And it seemed important to them too that I was interested in their lives. How often we hear about the many elderly people among us who suffer quietly in their loneliness because no one takes the time to listen to them.
And the song . . .
"Hello in There" by John Prine is a beautiful, but haunting song about the loneliness of elderly people written when Prine was only 22 years old. He drew inspiration from his experiences delivering newspapers, including to a Baptist old people's home, where he noticed residents sometimes pretended that he was their relative. The song highlights the importance of simple acts of kindness and connection, especially for those who feel isolated and forgotten, and the song's chorus and last verse are a clarion call to us to reach out to our community's most experienced neighbors.
You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder every day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say
"Hello in there, hello"
So if you're walkin' down the street sometime
And spot some hollow, ancient eyes
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare
As if you didn't care"
Say, "Hello in there, hello"
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