“We should listen to our elders, not because they are always right, but because they have more experience in being wrong.”
As I’m writing this I’ve spoken with my neighbour this evening and his wife has sadly fallen in to a coma in recent days. He’s of the generation where he’s extremely proud and finds it difficult to accept help.
2 years ago, mid-Covid we lost another elderly neighbour. The street that I live in is on a main road but the sense of community is something that I believe in wholeheartedly and can sense, if only in a handful of houses. We look after each other and it’s got me thinking about the elderly in our society, our (younger people) role in their latter years and how this will be passed on to future generations.
On top of the (Zip) World
On Saturday, my 4yo son and I travelled from Neath (where we live) to the Rhondda, specifically Treorchy and Pentre, a 25 mile journey to visit family and watch a rugby match, which we won’t speak about, while my wife took in the Christmas shopping delights of Worcester.
Those familiar with the area will know that the view from the top of the Rhigos road – an 8-mile windy mountain stretch which separates Hirwaun from Treherbert – is pretty special.
At the peak of the climb is a viewpoint which, on a fine day, takes in the vista of the Brecon Beacons National Park, including Pen Y Fan and Corn Du. On a typical day, you may not even find the ice cream van parked 10 feet in front of you.
The immediate landscape is dominated by the site of the famous Tower Colliery, which has now been fully repurposed as Zip World Tower – the 4th Zip World site to open and the 1st to be situated in South Wales. The transformation of this site has created a new lease of life for this historic and widely-loved site.
Coupled with the installation of the 76 wind turbines which make up Pen Y Cymoedd windfarm, and this makes for a very different panoramic view from just 15 years ago.
Arthur and Bryan
A scheduled stop in Treorchy – winner of Best UK High Street 2019 – at Cosy Café for a breakfast and we will both be set up for the day. Cosy Café is everything I want the Rhondda to be, vintage, unique, typically ‘Rhondda’ and…cosy.
Awaiting the arrival of his bacon, sausage and toast Arthur (my son) says “Hello” to an elderly gentleman who has walked in from the mid-November rain but is struggling to find a seat in the small, but full, café.
In a difficult moment, the man approaches a lady who is sat on her own and has ample room for another. “Do you mind if I sit here love?”. She picks her bag up and places it on the seat to stop him sitting down. He’s clearly disheartened and I quickly say “Jump in here with us mate, we’ve got plenty of room.” He turns, smiles and sits down. My heart genuinely sinks at his dejection but as he takes his seat, I drift into the background and my son takes over.
“Hello. We are having bacon and sausage and toast. My name is Arthur”
“Hello Arthur” he says. “I’m Bryan. How old are you?”
“I’m 4. It’s my birthday” (It wasn’t. That was 9 days ago, but he’s stressed that it’s been his birthday every day since).
“4? I wish I was 4. I’m 85”
“Yes” Arthur says, like he knew this all along.
The next 45 minutes displays a level of confidence I’ve not witnessed from my son before. He is openly chatting to a stranger and telling him the most important matters in his life; where he’s heading today (grandads), where his mam is (Worcester, getting presents for Santa), his food order, and the A-Z of species of dinosaur from Allosaurus to Zuniceratops (yes it is, look it up).
Bryan spends time telling Arthur, and me, about his grandchildren. He retired at 65 and fondly remembers the years that followed as the best of his life. He took his grandchildren to school while his daughter’s worked. One of them, a local nurse, works in the hospital my own gran died in and he is visibly proud of her achievements. He should be.
I put the photograph (above) on social media when I arrived back home in Neath that evening. It was met with some lovely comments and I was heartened that many people saw it exactly the same way I did. Two generations thrown together for a split second where nothing else mattered to either of them.
It reminded me of the privilege I have in my job.
I’ve always valued conversations with the elderly members of our society. My dad ran a workingmen’s club in Tynewydd for 15 years from when I was 14 years old. I’ve written more about this here, so I won’t repeat myself.
Regularly, I would find myself in prolonged conversations with club members – many of them retired – whether in the quiet afternoons with 2 men and their dogs or at the end of the evening when collecting glasses. I learned very early not to dismiss these chats out of hand. I never knew what I was going to learn and I fundamentally believe this upbringing is my driver for being drawn to housing. Those regaling these tales never let the truth get in the way of a good story, and I’ve gladly followed that philosophy since.
Since we met Bryan on Saturday, a girl I was in school with messaged me to say “this looks like Bryan”. I told her that it was and that we had chatted. She told me he has unfortunately been suffering with dementia for a while. However, she also told me that he lives a few doors down from her mam, he does have daughters and he was always fabulous with his grandchildren.
In the midst of his dementia, Bryan was able to recall events from 20 years ago and entertain a 4yo. No mean feat.
Anyone who has an awareness of, or has undertaken, ‘Dementia Friends’ training will be familiar with the bookcase analogy, imprinted on my brain through the expert teachings of a former colleague of mine. Bryan’s ‘top shelf’ may have been a struggle, but the next shelf down came much easier, and invigorated Arthur.
Passing the Baton
Arthur proved a valuable point to me that day. He saw the person. His innocence wasn’t even looking for a problem. When we do so, we escalate our compassion, we sidestep stigma, and we recognise strengths instead of weaknesses.
I’m very confident that Arthur had an impact of Bryan’s day on that Saturday. But I’d hope Bryan knew that he impacted Arthur’s too. It was all too apparent as we paid for our breakfasts, a coffee and a bottle of water as Arthur held my hand walking out the door shouting “Bye John”.
He’s 4, what more do you want?
rosswilliams79 