Life Preservers

Win

September 17, 2010 at 7:30 am 4 comments

In July 2010, at 91, a man named Win passed away. High school football star, WWII veteran, husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather. And, for the past 13 years, my neighbor—and friend.

Up until about two years ago, he was a force of nature. Cutting hedges. Mowing the lawn. Always at work. No weeds growing out of his driveway. No cinders or gum wrappers in front of his sidewalk. And snow? Pfft. His was gone before I’d even got a boot on. And never moved out in blobby patches. We’re talking pristine, edge to edge, straight lines and bare concrete. No snow-blower, just a shovel.

He always kept an eye on my place. One, because he was watching out for me. And two, because I am fairly certain that my obvious lack of skill, blatant procrastination, and resulting misadventures were a regular source of amusement.

When my garage door went bonkers, he was the one who crossed the street when I was out to re-shut it and/or scramble under it. The icy winter morning my driveway wall fell, he called to warn me before I’d even looked outside. It was his ladder that got me in the dining room window when I locked myself out. His hand that scattered the mystery salt on my sidewalk on days that it snowed while I was at work. His concern breaking into laughter at the inadvertent somersault or prat fall.

He has always been that sweet old guy masquerading as curmudgeon, and a bit of deserved and rather charming actual curmudgeon, a wise man, an extra grandparent, a firecracker.

I got another glimpse of him this week in some photos his wife shared.

In a scrapbook he made, these guys were “The Gang,” and they had nicknames (I kid you not) like Shorty and Jitterbug. Most of the above were taken in Arizona (near the Boulder/Hoover Dam) shortly before he left for France and Germany and World War II. And, although taken long before I was even born, I love these pictures, and I am somewhat overcome with a sense of joy and relief that he did all this and then came home, married his sweetheart, raised a family.

It was about 2 years ago that his legs, which had carried him around a football field, the City of Pittsburgh, and the world, began to slow. A betrayal in his eyes as everyday things became difficult and surgeries and long stays in rehab centers took their toll. He drew the line when the only remaining option, and the recommendation by doctors, became amputation. There was a fierceness and strength and dignity in his decision. He wanted to go home. And there was an acquiescence by doctors. And understanding as well as tremendous support from his family.

I admire them all.

When he arrived home later that day, he emerged from the passenger side of the car and was helped into a wheelchair. They were wheeling him into the house backwards, so he was facing me, and I was stunned to see this thin, ghostly pale figure; hands held still in his lap; head down. They were having a time of it, getting the chair up over the threshold. The jostling made him look so fragile.

Then, with one last big ol’ bumpity-bu-bump and the front two wheels precariously high in the air, Win raised his head. He gave me a great big smile, threw his hands in the air, and yelled “Wheeeee!”

I raise a glass to humor and bravado and life. To our elders. To our veterans. To our tough guys.

God speed, Win McCluskey.

Entry filed under: Life Preservers.