Movie Night
Tonight I go off to another of my odd and unrelated jobs. I take care of Bill. It's another pretty nice gig.
Bill is 86. I cook him dinner and we eat together. He watches the news while I putter about. We chat, and I catch him up on the details of my life and my kids. I make sure he takes his meds and that he's set up for the night.
Oh, and here's the best part. We drink bourbon and watch old movies.
Yeah, life it tough. Actually, Bill is really the one drinking bourbon. But it makes him happy if I have a drink with him. His son, a good friend of mine who gave me the job, encourages this seemingly reckless behavior. I don't drink hard liquor, so my bourbon is mixed with lots of ice and water. Even Bill gets a little twinkle in his blue eyes when he sees my watered-down glass on the coaster.
"Not much of a drinker, are you?" he says, every time.
And when I bring him his second shot, he announces like clockwork, "You're a sweet, sweet girl." Add that to the fact that he tells me every week how nice I look, and he is pretty much the definition of my fan club these days, not a thing to be taken lightly.
He forgets a lot, Bill does. Each time I have to remind him which of my kids is at which school, and what they're studying before he nods. "Oh yes, I knew that." The short-term memory stuff is hard. But the long-term memory is sharp as a tack. When we decide which movie to watch he tells me "You're the boss," but he makes his preferences clear.
We watch the same films over and over, and for each one he can remember where he was the first time he saw it. "I was in the army in Basic Training," or "I saw that in Philadelphia in 1940." John Wayne in Stagecoach, Gary Cooper in High Noon, Robert Montgomery in Night Must Fall.
And then there's Bogie. Bill adores him in The Maltese Falcon, and Key Largo, and he'd probably watch Casablanca every night if he could.
"I think it may be the best movie ever made," he'll say, and wait for me to agree.
Bill lives in an old island house that's been in his family for generations. There's an authentic whaling harpoon hanging over one of the fireplaces, and an original document signed by Abraham Lincoln on the opposite wall.
He ran his family's newspaper for many years, and with his wife raised five children. Now he spends his days reading, watching the news, and waiting for evening to come so he can have a couple of shots of bourbon and watch a movie with one of his kids or, sometimes, me.
He turns to me during certain scenes as we watch our movies, and grasps my hand with surprising strength. I know he's remembering some moment long gone, maybe from the first time he saw this film as a young man, or maybe something special about the person he saw it with.
"Do you like Humphrey Bogart," he asks, yet again.
I assure him I do, but what I really want to tell him is that, for the rest of my days, I will never hear Bogie utter those famous words, "Here's looking at you, kid," without thinking of him.
Bill is 86. I cook him dinner and we eat together. He watches the news while I putter about. We chat, and I catch him up on the details of my life and my kids. I make sure he takes his meds and that he's set up for the night.
Oh, and here's the best part. We drink bourbon and watch old movies.
Yeah, life it tough. Actually, Bill is really the one drinking bourbon. But it makes him happy if I have a drink with him. His son, a good friend of mine who gave me the job, encourages this seemingly reckless behavior. I don't drink hard liquor, so my bourbon is mixed with lots of ice and water. Even Bill gets a little twinkle in his blue eyes when he sees my watered-down glass on the coaster.
"Not much of a drinker, are you?" he says, every time.
And when I bring him his second shot, he announces like clockwork, "You're a sweet, sweet girl." Add that to the fact that he tells me every week how nice I look, and he is pretty much the definition of my fan club these days, not a thing to be taken lightly.
He forgets a lot, Bill does. Each time I have to remind him which of my kids is at which school, and what they're studying before he nods. "Oh yes, I knew that." The short-term memory stuff is hard. But the long-term memory is sharp as a tack. When we decide which movie to watch he tells me "You're the boss," but he makes his preferences clear.
We watch the same films over and over, and for each one he can remember where he was the first time he saw it. "I was in the army in Basic Training," or "I saw that in Philadelphia in 1940." John Wayne in Stagecoach, Gary Cooper in High Noon, Robert Montgomery in Night Must Fall.
And then there's Bogie. Bill adores him in The Maltese Falcon, and Key Largo, and he'd probably watch Casablanca every night if he could.
"I think it may be the best movie ever made," he'll say, and wait for me to agree.
Bill lives in an old island house that's been in his family for generations. There's an authentic whaling harpoon hanging over one of the fireplaces, and an original document signed by Abraham Lincoln on the opposite wall.
He ran his family's newspaper for many years, and with his wife raised five children. Now he spends his days reading, watching the news, and waiting for evening to come so he can have a couple of shots of bourbon and watch a movie with one of his kids or, sometimes, me.
He turns to me during certain scenes as we watch our movies, and grasps my hand with surprising strength. I know he's remembering some moment long gone, maybe from the first time he saw this film as a young man, or maybe something special about the person he saw it with.
"Do you like Humphrey Bogart," he asks, yet again.
I assure him I do, but what I really want to tell him is that, for the rest of my days, I will never hear Bogie utter those famous words, "Here's looking at you, kid," without thinking of him.
How sweet. I have a total soft spot for old men. Really, they bring tears to my eyes. I volunteered for Meals on Wheels for a year or two and it was amazing how much those people relished the company of a visitor even for just a few minutes. Bill is lucky to have you - and, of course he should drink his bourbon. At his age he deserves whatever he wants!
Posted by: Twenty Four At Heart | June 25, 2009 at 10:52 AM
What a great gig. My mom worked as a CNA for 30 years and has all kinds of stories. I think she would have loved this job.
Posted by: Pseudo | June 25, 2009 at 12:17 PM
Aw. Lovely. I can just see Bill. And his hands.
Posted by: LPC | June 25, 2009 at 12:56 PM
Oh, that's so sweet. Do you do this every night?
Posted by: Jan | June 25, 2009 at 01:40 PM
Your writing is lovely. You have a new fan.
Posted by: Jill | June 25, 2009 at 05:48 PM
How wonderful. I visited an elderly woman, Rebecca, who became a dear, dear friend, for years.
I know just what you mean by the hand grasps and remembered youth.
Also? The authentic whaling harpoon and Abraham Lincoln document made me drool. I love being surrounded by history in all its forms.
Posted by: San Diego Momma | June 25, 2009 at 09:15 PM
THAT....is awesome.
That is perhaps the coolest night out ever. I think that spending time in that manner, job or not, not only gives this elderly gentleman the respect and companionship that ANY elderly deserves, but in the future...these are going to be moments that you rememver for your lifetime.
Kudos to you my friend. You just went up about 4 notches in my totem pole.
People should treat ALL elders with such dignity. Need a fill in? Let me know, I'll check flights...
:-)
Posted by: Nancy McDonnell | June 25, 2009 at 09:25 PM
I should introduce Bill to John! John LOVES old movies, old music. he had hundreds of movies, at least 1/3 of them old old ones! they'd get along famously. Only problem is John doesn't drink. Not a drop, but he'll have a diet cherry coke while Bill drinks his Bourbon!
Posted by: Joanie M | June 25, 2009 at 09:58 PM
Awww...that is one of the sweetest posts I've ever read. Bill is a lucky man. :)
Posted by: Midlife Slices | June 26, 2009 at 12:54 AM
It sounds like the two of you have a mutual admiration society going--who wouldn't want one of those?
Posted by: Jenn @ Juggling Life | June 26, 2009 at 02:37 AM
You are a mensch. What a sweet post.
Posted by: Nina | June 26, 2009 at 11:39 AM
That sounds like such a wonderful way to spend the evening. Bill sounds like a wonderful man. I certainly like his taste in movies.
Posted by: joanharvest | June 26, 2009 at 01:29 PM
I agree with him - Casablanca is the best movie ever made.
Posted by: suburbancorrespondent | June 27, 2009 at 10:59 PM