When my mother got older and infirm, I made it a point to walk the neighborhood with her to get her out of the house. We moved slowly, speaking of a wide range of topics as she held my arm. There was gossip, doctor discussions, memories of things and people I'd forgotten. I miss that communication, as my mom passed away ten years ago.
When I mentioned this to my friend Howard, he thought a moment, rubbing his chin. I believe I have a proposition, Joe, he said.
The more he talked, the more it made sense.
The upshot is every Sunday morning I pick him up and we drive to a park and walk around the lake, he wearing a colorful house dress, grey wig, soft slippers, and knee length coat, holding tightly onto my arm, listening to my problems and reminding me of memories of my youth, which he improvises. All for only $30 a week.
Around and around we go. Howard is such a good listener.
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