A Lesson In The Park

When eating my daily lunch in the park I position myself so I can see the man sitting hunched over on the park bench. Above him is an old, decommissioned Army helicopter perched upon a pole for display. The man mirrors the helicopter, also appearing obsolete and on display. His weary face is contemplative.

I reach into my bag of chips and put another into my mouth savoring the saltiness. Between bites I look at the man and wonder why he comes every day.

Occasionally other regulars join me. I don’t mind. I enjoy the company. Sometimes they talk about the lonely old man on the bench.

“Is he crazy?”
I tell them no.
“I think he’s a bum,” some say.
I don’t reply. I just glance at him and pop another chip into my mouth.

Today a new person joined me. I learned he had just returned from Iraq. His eyes revealed a haunted soul. With an unexpected chill I averted my eyes back to the old man. He followed my gaze and I braced myself for the usual line of questions. They never came. He arose from the table, marched towards the park bench, and sat next to him. The old man became attentive as the young soldier pointed at the helicopter. Soon the old man began to sit up straighter and hold his head higher. He no longer looked so old and sad. I was stunned to see them engaged in animated conversation.

Unable to contain my curiosity, I did the unthinkable. I approached the man on the bench. I had never disturbed him during these lunchtimes but had to know what had stimulated such a drastic change. The young man excitedly filled me in.

“This man fought in Vietnam!” Yes, I knew that. “He was a pilot!” I knew that too.
“This was HIS helicopter!” I looked at the man on the bench in disbelief then at the weathered, war torn helicopter. I didn’t know that! Suddenly I realized the importance of his coming here each day.

The young man got up, snapped to attention and saluted the old war veteran. “Have a great day, Sir!” He then said, “This man deserves to have everyone call him Sir.”

With a new understanding I looked at the old man and a tear rolled down my cheek. His eyes locked with mine and I felt a new, almost spiritual connection. Finally, I understood. The young soldier was right.

“Yes, as do you Sir, but if you don’t mind I’d prefer to address him as I always have.” I proudly reached for the old man’s hand and gripped it tightly.

“Come on Dad, It’s time to go home.”