Spending time with Bert
While showering this morning my mind was other places thinking of other things. I thought of the street I grew up on in Rhode Island an elderly man who lived at the top of the street named Bert.
I did not learn to ride a bike until I moved to Rhode Island. I was 10 and initially stayed in an apartment in Middletown. This did not give me a lot of space to ride my bike. After completing 4th grade, my parents purchased a three bedroom house on Brown Terrace in Portsmouth. This is where I spent all my years in middle and high school. (Interestingly enough, enjoybeing will be going to school just a few miles from where this is.) Brown Terrace and the area around it had a lot of space to ride my bike and I did often. During the weekends and summer days I would often see an elderly man sitting out in his back yard in the shade of some trees.
Not long after seeing him and being somewhat of an extrovert, I stopped to say hello. From that point of until I was in 10th or 11th grade, I often stopped to chat with him. Bert was in his late 60’s and cared for his mother who was in her late 80’s or early 90’s. When I stopped by he would often get a lawn chair out and he would tell me stories about his life.
Bert never married. He was engaged but they split up. He had a sister and brother and also nephews, nieces, great nephews, and great nieces. He loved his whole family more then anything. He often talked about family members, holidays together and especially Christmas’s of the past. Christmas seemed to me to be his favorite time of the year.
Every now and then we would go into his house to get a drink of water or lemonade or get a picture of someone to show me. I never liked going into his house though. I never felt comfortable. The decorations looked like there were from the 60’s or 70’s and were never updated. Though always clean, things were kept in plastic or paper bags and the air always seemed stale. I just always felt out of place in my shorts, t-shirt and sneakers.
Occasionally I would see him walking on his daily trek to the post office. In the past before I met him vandals had repeatedly destroyed his mailbox. Instead of fixing it the second time, he decided to forgo the mailbox and get a PO Box. I remember the day I noticed a mailbox out front. This was long after I stopped going to see him regularly. I stopped to ask why the mailbox. Bert replied that the town was growing and they replaced the old post office with a new post office that was too far for him to walk.
In my senior year of high school, I saw a for sale sign in front of his house. I didn’t know it, but Bert died and his mother was going to live with a different family member. I was told this by Mr. Davis who lived across the street.
Being that my father was in the Navy, I never spent much time with my other relatives, and still don’t. The most was a month with my grandmother in Bryan/College Station, Texas and one month with my step-grandfather in Lodi, California. I imagine spending time with Bert would be like spending time with any elderly relative. I was pretty lucky to spend that time with Bert. I am sure he knew how much I liked visiting him though. A kid has no obligation to do much during the summer. If a kid does do something it is because they want to. I hope after his passing he found the same peace and love he received from his family while alive.
I did not learn to ride a bike until I moved to Rhode Island. I was 10 and initially stayed in an apartment in Middletown. This did not give me a lot of space to ride my bike. After completing 4th grade, my parents purchased a three bedroom house on Brown Terrace in Portsmouth. This is where I spent all my years in middle and high school. (Interestingly enough, enjoybeing will be going to school just a few miles from where this is.) Brown Terrace and the area around it had a lot of space to ride my bike and I did often. During the weekends and summer days I would often see an elderly man sitting out in his back yard in the shade of some trees.
Not long after seeing him and being somewhat of an extrovert, I stopped to say hello. From that point of until I was in 10th or 11th grade, I often stopped to chat with him. Bert was in his late 60’s and cared for his mother who was in her late 80’s or early 90’s. When I stopped by he would often get a lawn chair out and he would tell me stories about his life.
Bert never married. He was engaged but they split up. He had a sister and brother and also nephews, nieces, great nephews, and great nieces. He loved his whole family more then anything. He often talked about family members, holidays together and especially Christmas’s of the past. Christmas seemed to me to be his favorite time of the year.
Every now and then we would go into his house to get a drink of water or lemonade or get a picture of someone to show me. I never liked going into his house though. I never felt comfortable. The decorations looked like there were from the 60’s or 70’s and were never updated. Though always clean, things were kept in plastic or paper bags and the air always seemed stale. I just always felt out of place in my shorts, t-shirt and sneakers.
Occasionally I would see him walking on his daily trek to the post office. In the past before I met him vandals had repeatedly destroyed his mailbox. Instead of fixing it the second time, he decided to forgo the mailbox and get a PO Box. I remember the day I noticed a mailbox out front. This was long after I stopped going to see him regularly. I stopped to ask why the mailbox. Bert replied that the town was growing and they replaced the old post office with a new post office that was too far for him to walk.
In my senior year of high school, I saw a for sale sign in front of his house. I didn’t know it, but Bert died and his mother was going to live with a different family member. I was told this by Mr. Davis who lived across the street.
Being that my father was in the Navy, I never spent much time with my other relatives, and still don’t. The most was a month with my grandmother in Bryan/College Station, Texas and one month with my step-grandfather in Lodi, California. I imagine spending time with Bert would be like spending time with any elderly relative. I was pretty lucky to spend that time with Bert. I am sure he knew how much I liked visiting him though. A kid has no obligation to do much during the summer. If a kid does do something it is because they want to. I hope after his passing he found the same peace and love he received from his family while alive.