Family

Late yesterday afternoon I took a radio booking in the inner city. Upon arrival I parked and waited outside an elegant historic home, tastefully converted into company headquarters.

Shortly an elderly gentleman emerged through the security gate. He was a spitting image of Colonel Saunders in a white casual suit and ornate cane. “You were supposed to drive in,” he grumbled opening the door. I told him the instructions were only to wait with no mention of driving in. It happens with phone bookings.

Next he ordered the air conditioning then became exasperated when it didn’t instantly chill. I was tempted to chide him for being a grumpy old bugger but bit my tongue and turned up the fan. No matter, he was soon comfortable enough to enter into an amicable conversation.

“I’m 83, you know,” he offered, explaining that he only worked three days a week. “It’s good for me, keeps my hand in.” I asked him, “So how’s your health?” “Excellent,” he replied, “touch wood.” Though not quite excellent, as I was soon to find out.

It didn’t take long to learn that he was one of Australia’s eminent publishers and had worked around the world in all positions, right up to Chairman. I inquired about their famous editor, currently the subject of a compelling documentary and he revealed that whilst president of the company in New York it was he who had employed her.

After I suggested his experiences would make an excellent memoir he told how the manuscript was well advanced. “My son is helping me write it, he’s won three Walkleys.” He related this with obvious pride, also mentioning a successful daughter and his grandchildren.

He was gracious enough to inquire about my business whilst reeling off facts and statistics on the current state of publishing. In the next breath he would suggest a cunning shortcut to avoid the banking traffic. No doubt about it, the bloke was sharp as a tack and certainly knew his stuff.

Yet it was only on arrival in his quiet street in an exclusive harbour side suburb that his years really showed. When I stopped at the number he gave he didn’t recognise the house in the dark, so I pulled over whilst he produced a notebook. He studied this intensely and apologised for keeping me waiting. It was clear he was in the early stages of dementia.

Finally he asked for number 15 and we pulled into the driveway of an imposing structure overlooking the harbour. I held the door open whilst he slowly heaved himself out, only to totter off to number 13. So I set him straight and walked him to his door, then waited until someone buzzed him inside.

I thought about the old fella a lot after that and what a pleasant conversationalist he had been, unlike many other businessmen preoccupied with their Blackberrys. And how after reaching the top of his profession, that it really doesn't matter about position and status when one's health goes haywire. Then all that matters is family and love.

Comments

[Theresa]

What an awesome feel good post to start the day with! Thanks Adrian :)

[Rainer the cabbie]

Thanks Adrian.
Love, Family, Health, Freedom, Happiness, Benevolence, Community and helping out when needed are the true value's and achievements in life.
Bugger the rest everyone is so concerned with.

[LaLa]

You should be winning Walkley's instead of driving cabs...

[adrian]

Sure, LaLa, and you should be in comedy! But thanks, anyway, much appreciated.