Anytime I called someone and said, “Is so and so there?” I was promptly corrected and informed how to ask for someone. “May I please speak to…” and “One moment, please…” were to be practiced anytime we used the telephone. My mother was a stickler for telephone courtesy. There were simple telephone courtesies that were extended to my mother who passed them along to us. He always reminded us the magic words were “Please” and “Thank You.” There were no exceptions to this rule. My grandfather was an extraordinary mentor and the quintessential gentleman. Simple courtesies lost to the winds through time. When I think of being 64, I think of the values we were taught growing up. He will be forever missed and his positive affect on my sister and me will be forever felt. He lived another 10 years and died at age 72 on a spring evening in 1966. By the time I arrived in 1956, he was 62, old and sick from a heart attack and colon cancer. I knew every church in Arlington, Virginia because he made the rounds and knew everyone. He was a man of great faith and suggested we practice the same. My grandfather was well read, experienced-and had been through a lot. They took care of us during some very tough times. My sister and I felt safe with my grandmother and grandfather. “Granddaddy, what holds water in a toilet bowl?” He’d respond, “A toilet bowl is like an elbow, like the trap like you see under the sink, only it is made of china… It holds water…” He understood the raw curiosity of a little boy and took the time to explain. With great patience, my granddaddy answered my questions and showed me the ropes. He was tough, but also kind and gentle with a little boy who had thousands of questions. Paul Proctor, who was retired from The White House Police Force (Secret Service). I had the good fortune of an incredible grandfather, Lt. In those days, there were plenty of federal retirees who were enjoying the benefits of the Federal Housing Act with a nice place to live. I lived in an apartment complex in Arlington, Virginia across from Fort Myer overlooking the Potomac. I am also sensitive to the vulnerability of the elderly and little children. I’ve always had a soft spot for the elderly-probably because I was raised by and hung out with old people when I was growing up. With any luck, you are surrounded by people who love and admire you who will always stand by you even if you’re slumped over in a wheelchair. At 64, you’re a survivor and hopefully have kept your mistakes to a minimum. Sixty-Four is a mixed blessing of wisdom and the depressing nature of growing old. It’s like being five and being told “don’t touch the stove, it’s hot…” and knowing the darned thing is HOT at 64. The wisdom and experience we have at this age come from a culmination of things we’ve been through over a lifetime. When we are young, we don’t have the experience and wisdom we will have gained by age 64. The way we think at 14 is considerably different than how we think at 64. These days, I think about growing old-a lot… A fraction of the strength I had at half this age when I was once as strong as a bull moose. Sixty-Four was way off in the future and I had little time nor interest to think about growing old. Do you remember the first time you heard this song by The Beatles? I was at the cusp of adolescence in the mid-1960s, wondering what life was going to be like when I turned 64.
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