old men with walkers and flags
drivel from the drive thru, no. 1
In the drive-thru, there’s a Vietnam veteran. His hat is old, worn, pinned to hell. He smiles at me, a vacant look in his eye. He didn’t hear me.
Did you want any sauce?
No response. I lean closer.
Any sauce?
I try to keep my annoyance at bay. How can he not hear me? We’re almost face to face. He puts his hand to his ear, smiles apologetically, indicates he can’t hear me.
I say it again, louder. A little more forcefully. He nods in understanding.
“Give me whatever you got.”
I throw in a few ketchups, a BBQ.
Have a good day.
With shaky hands, he puts his car in gear and goes away.
At the front counter, a man who served in the marines talks my ear off. I think he’s lonely. He’s a little creepy, too pushy in the way that old white men are. He wants to show me some pictures. Honestly, I’d rather not see a shriveled dick.
(They’re probably not dick pics but instead the planes that he talks about with such fascination. My dad builds planes. I don’t give a fuck.)
“You know, I have to use this before I start my new job.”
He holds up his EBT and I nod in acknowledgement.
“They’re finally opening up the plant again after COVID. They fired everybody, y’know? It was hard. But, I’m looking forward to getting back.”
When he gets his food, he shuffles over to his regular seat by the window, a faint smiling ghosting his face.
He comes in one last time.
“The job fell through.”
I haven’t seen him since.
On the way home from Target, there’s an old man hunched over a walker with a small flag attached.
It’s hot in California right now but he’s wearing a jacket. He’s alone.
What is it about old people being alone that kicks us in the gut? Is it some kind of backwards agism? Some infantilism of “the greatest generation?” Projection. It’s projection. We don’t actually care. We only “care” insomuch that we know that could and will be us one day.
He shuffles along, the only thing standing straight being the flag. It’s a beacon of pride attached to a metal thing of support. Does it offer emotional support? Comfort? Companionship?
Nothing like America.
Like veterans with shaky hands and hearing aids.
Like marines on food stamps who look a little worse every time you see them.
Like old men with walkers and flags.
Here’s my latest:
until next time,
lauryn :)
I ENJOYED reading this