| Too soon for lunch and hungry after a spin through | | | | The grammar and sentences flowed quite well, but the |
| town on my bike, I spied a Dunkin Donuts and stopped | | | | typing was littered with mis-strikes and typing errors. |
| for a break. To while the time, I brought along my | | | | One cat wound his body around my legs and another |
| graphic arts workbook. Next to me two stools away | | | | peeked with one eye from the kitchen. After coffee, I |
| sat an old man, dressed in scruffy, rough clothing, | | | | offered to help clean up, curious about the rest of the |
| craning his head to get a better look at my workbook. I | | | | house. Following Henry into the kitchen, he proudly |
| asked him if he would like to see it and he slid over | | | | pointed to the new refrigerator in the middle of one |
| eagerly. | | | | wall in front of the two windows. It turned out that his |
| He introduced himself as Henry and revealed that he | | | | oldest son had it delivered one day. I gathered that his |
| worked as a graphic designer in New York in the | | | | son only visited his Dad once a year to see how he |
| fifties. Though his wife died of cancer twenty years | | | | was doing. |
| ago, he continued to live in their house, alone except | | | | During the next three weeks, I started to help Henry |
| for two stray cats. He offered to show me some of | | | | make his kitchen more livable. I painted the cabinets, |
| his graphic art that he saved. | | | | threw out the forty-year-old spices, washed the dishes |
| So the following Saturday I rode over to his house. I | | | | (most of which lay congealed in a pantry sink. The |
| stood transfixed in the path to the front door. | | | | back door was completely blocked with junk, his |
| Surrounding me were weeds head high, rubble strewn | | | | garbage being carried out through the front door and |
| across the brick path as if it were a forest floor. I | | | | onto the porch. Henry wasn't too concerned with the |
| carefully made my way through treacherous rose | | | | unsanitary conditions, but would rather have me fix up |
| thorns, stickers and assorted junk to rickety stairs | | | | some of his treasures. Like a two foot long sailing ship |
| leading to a small porch. At one end sat a large | | | | he and his son made together. It needed major repairs |
| wooden chest and an old doorless refrigerator at the | | | | and re-rigging. So I took it home and worked on it for a |
| other. These signs of neglect failed to prepare me for | | | | couple of weeks. He cried when I gave it to him. Henry |
| the unimaginable scene inside the house. | | | | showed signs of dementia, forgetting to eat and being |
| Inside, Henry led me through a dark hall through an | | | | confused with time and the days of the week. A |
| archway leading to the living room/dining room, | | | | neighbor finally contacted a free lunch program which |
| apologizing all the way for the mess. And what a | | | | would supply Henry with at least one good meal per |
| mess! Covering the floor were newspapers, Victorian | | | | day. |
| bric-a-brac of every description. More appalling was | | | | During the rest of the summer, I enjoyed repairing |
| the inch-thick layer of dust covering every unused | | | | various things around the house. One interesting |
| surface. Framed art filled every square inch of wall | | | | project was the restoration of an old Gibson mandolin. |
| space, festooned with trailing spider webs and glass | | | | Missing were the strings, the bridge, a tuning knob and |
| hiding under a layer of grime. It would take at least | | | | pieces of mother-of-pearl decorations. Henry told me a |
| twenty years of neglect for this amount of dirt to | | | | story how he saw it in a pawn shop window and |
| accumulate! | | | | bought it for ten dollars. I placed it exactly where it was |
| Henry shuffled over to a low, homemade bookshelf | | | | on the wall over the book shelf, gleaming with new |
| and retrieved a large scrap album bursting with paper. | | | | varnish and looking as it must have looked in 1888 |
| Henry lovingly turned each page, reminiscing how and | | | | when it was new. Throughout the house were |
| for whom he created each piece. I learned that many | | | | samples of Henry's wife's hobby -- collecting Victorian |
| a nineteen forty- six Macy ad came from his brushes. | | | | paraphernalia. Old dolls, boxes, hand-made toys and |
| In the center of the room sat a large oak drafting | | | | antique books of every description were piled on |
| bench with an angled work top and adjustable shelves | | | | every surface. |
| underneath. Dozens of brushes, pencils, and assorted | | | | Henry died at ninety-two, six years ago. The house still |
| drafting tools sat waiting on its surface. I'm sure none | | | | stands as it was, dilapidated and run down. Everything |
| of them had been used for two or three decades. | | | | was left as it was except for a few things his son |
| Nearby on a small table sat a new looking portable | | | | took away -- the mandolin, the Boston rocker and the |
| typewriter with a partially typed sheet of paper in the | | | | model ship. Nobody cared for this kind old man who |
| carriage. While Henry went to fix us a cup of coffee, I | | | | missed his dead wife to the point of barely existing. |
| sneaked a peek at the first paragraph. It seemed to | | | | How many poor souls are there out in the world with |
| be the beginning of his memoirs, featuring his | | | | no-one to share a life with? I'll miss him. |
| experiences repairing the old Morris Canal in the fifties. | | | | Writing soothes my soul. |