Lately, Garrison Keillor who is 81 years old has written a post or two on his blog about falling down and immediately being helped by kind strangers.
I’m only 67 years old and thought that my falling down period was a little way off in the future. Apparently, the future is now.
Today while our son hiked up the Torrey Pines State Park trail north of San Diego, California, I was nursing a blister from last week’s short hike with our son, and so contented myself with just a good book in a beach chair luxuriating before the majestic Pacific Ocean.
But first I had to get there.
Stepping over some jagged and uneven rocks abutting the raised concrete sidewalk with my beach chair slung over my shoulder and a large black cane that I carry only for dramatic effect and “to fend off all the wild women,” as I always joke, not that anyone ever laughs, least of all my beautiful bride of forty-four years who only always just rolls her eyes, I felt myself losing my balance and falling backward.
“I always knew this day would come,” I thought to myself as I fell. “I just didn’t think it would be this soon.” Somehow I instinctively knew just to let gravity do its thing and to NOT resist, because if I flailed my arms or legs, something was more than likely gonna get caught in the rocks and broke or torn or badly sprained.
Therefore, I just sat down on my well-padded behind and slowly lay back onto the sidewalk like an old tree crashing down to the ground. I may have uttered an expletive, but I’d like to think that I didn’t or, if I did, that it wasn’t very audible.
Immediately, a nice California Girl in her 40s or 50s rushed over to ask, “May I help you up, Sir?”
I told her, “It’s just like Garrison Keillor says, ‘An old man falls down, and the nicest people immediately gather round to help him!’ You remember Garrison Keillor from ‘A Prairie Home Companion,’ don’t you?” She said she’d never heard of him.
“He’s coming to Irvine in January,” I said. “You should go!” “Oh OK,” she said, but probably thought to herself, “WHY would I want to go to Irvine in January to see an old man who falls down?”
Her name was Shannon and her teenaged son named Triston was behind me also offering to help me up. Triston was wearing a helmet with a baseball catcher’s cage protecting his face. “My son has epilepsy and falls down a lot,” Shannon said. I told Triston, “Cool helmet! I should probably get me one.”
“Cool shirt!” was all Triston said to me regarding my colorful Hawaiian shirt with big red flowers and green leaves on a white background.
We shook hands after I stood up on my own and we had exchanged names, but Shannon held onto my hand as she helped me down the rocks and to my spot on the beach.
I told Shannon, “If my wife were here, she’d probably say that I always manage to make a public spectacle of myself, and she’d be right.” Having just held her hand for an extended period of time, I think that I wanted Shannon to know that I was married.
“I’m so glad that you are alright,” Shannon said. And with that she and Triston were gone before I could think to ask if I could take their pictures.
Later at Duke’s in La Jolla for lunch with our son, I hoisted my non-alcoholic beer in memory of my two guardian angels.
Cool story. Love this one!!
Great story, great song. Thanks, Mark