Même dans la douleur, il faut garder les plus beaux souvenirs, les plus belles images dans son coeur.

Cyril

Translation to English:
This is a splendid history Laura. Sometimes, meetings that one or the details which surround us becomes importance afterwards.Particularly in photography…beautiful story, and this meeting, was right there, to share a few moments and to immortalize him, so well done. Even in the pain, it is necessary to have the most beautiful memories, the most beautiful images in its heart.

Btw, I found my way here by way of apug. Mention that to your husband–he’ll know what I mean.

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“On getting older…”

A recent private post from a very dear and kindly person, who has been around a bit longer than I, brought something to mind that I’d like to share with you all. It’s not very deep, is subtle in humor, and is based on an experience I had while living in a small farming village in Northern Germany, near the city of Koeln (Cologne).

Back during my military days when I was still married to my first wife Kathinka (a Dutch girl), we found ourselves relocating from RAF Bentwaters in the U.K., to a small German Military (not U.S.) base in the town of Noervenich (approximately halfway between the City of Koeln, and Aachen, on the German/Belgian/Dutch border). Noervenich was like any other farming village found on the outskirts of the Eifel Mountains–replete with cascading landscapes, which rolled on seemingly forever; a fair share of friendly villagers, who (once they got to know you and the language barrier was broken) were more than glad to sit down with you at table, and discuss anything that might come to mind; and the sweet but tangy smell of fertilized fields, that would permeate the air in the early Springtime, just as the farmers were getting ready for the new season.

As we began that four year visit to this pastoral place reminiscent of Monet’s paintings, we managed to find an affordable, one bedroom, detached home in a small village called Geich, about 12 miles south of where Noervenich lay. Anyway, we soon settled in and began meeting the locals.

At first, we may have appeared as curiosities to them (there weren’t many GI’s in that section of Germany, especially GI’s who were fluent in the native tongue), but that feeling soon diminished, as we began to develop closer and closer friendships with them. One of those relationships I had, stands out probably more so than all the rest–that with a next door neighbor of mine, Alfred, 72 years in age and retired, and his wife Anna, 76.

Alfred and Anna were a rather curious mix, as Alfred always seemed the archetype of health and happiness (he would ride his bicycle, when weather permitted, an almost daily 20 miles, and was always joking about something or other), while Anna was always complaining of severe aches and pains, the nearness of the end, and many trips to the doctor she would often make. They loved each other dearly though, in their own German little way, and for those who got to know them, such love was easily discernable.

This was a couple who, over the course of our stay in that little village (maybe 250 inhabitants), would not only come to know us far better than anyone else there, but would take us in as if their own (they didn’t have any children), and treat us with many years of love and respect.

One hot summer’s day, Alfred and I were standing at the fence that separated his vegetable garden from the garage side of my yard. Having already had to put up with a heat spell that had thus far lasted two weeks, with sweat on my brow, I welcomed the offered chance to drink a nice, cool, comforting beer, with my most best of friends, who then proceeded down into his ‘Keller’ (cellar) in search of a few full bottles of that ever-refreshing beverage (German beer is far unlike American beer… not even the import variety… you have to taste it, experience it, in order to gage it appropriately).

Anyway, Alfred had been gone but a few moments, when Anna appeared and began to complain about just how hot it was, and just how poorly she was doing. She told me she had been to the ‘Artz’ (doctor) again that morning, and had gotten a number of injections of some pain-relieving substance, in what she termed a useless effort to alleviate her condition. On and on she went… this hurt and that hurt… how much longer would it go on… the nearness of the end, and so on and so forth. I could only listen carefully, as she described her dissatisfaction with her current condition.

Then, Alfred returning from his trek to the beer cellar, bottles in hand, having overheard what his Anna had been talking about with me, could only look at her with his typical German smile, and say: “Achhh!!! What are you talking about? Doctor’s Gespritzes (injections) and so on. You’ll live forever, to plague me with your ailments!” Alfred was grinning all this time and I knew he was only making light of a condition that was more in his wife’s mind, than in her body.

It was then that I thought of an appropriate response to the entire discussion, one to this day, I look back fondly upon, and smile a bit about in remembrance. It goes that I looked at them both, managed to take center stage, and with a bit of understanding, humor, and kindness, said: “What are the two of you talking about!!! You’re not going to die soon, Anna (very happy face there). The two of you are going to live, ohh, another thirty years or so! I bet you’ll live to be 106!”

Alfred, sneaky grin on his face, the 72 year old rascal that he was, could only respond with: “Huh??? Me… 106? Never! Can you imagine me, 106 years old?” It was at that moment he raised his arms, let his hands droop, and began shaking them with the appearance of a nervous twitch, sometimes found in the extreme elderly.

Needless to say… I cracked up in laughter.

It’s nice to know, that as one ages in life, one can do so gracefully, if one so desires. It’s nice to know, that as time passes on, happiness can persist, if one so deems it to. Alfred and Anna, were true examples of what it is I just said–down to earth, humble, and able to enjoy the simple things in life. They earned a most prized place in my heart, a place that will always be, and never dwindle in size. And though they are long since gone… they never will be forgotten.

Which leads me to say one final thing before closing. It’s sort of a parable I once coined, which I have since passed on to many a friend or acquaintance, and pretty much reflects just how I feel about life in general. And it kind a goes like this:
“You know, there comes a time in every persons life, when we reach the end of a very long and winding road. Having traveled that road is irrelevant, having reached its end is the only pertinent factor. And once we have reached the end of that road, we can look back on the many things that have occurred during the course of our lifetimes, dwell on them a bit, and develop one of two perspectives. Either we will reflect back, on the many things that have occurred, and think naught but just how miserable life was to us… or we can smile, think happy things, and say ‘Gee… that was great… let’s do it again!’”

Jan… who while wiping away the stray tear from his eye, smiles at his son, and holds him ever so close.

Now follow the bouncing ball:

“When I get older, losing my hair , many years from now, Will you still be sending me a valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine? If I’d been out till quarter to three would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m a hundred and six… dum dum.”

–subtle variation on the Beatles’ song
“When I’m 64″