When you’re an old guy, and your wife dies, and the rest of your family is scattered around the country, life can be lonely.
John Rose lives by himself in Suffield Township. He is 87. When his spouse, Carol, passed away a couple of years ago after 61 years of marriage, “I felt like I was here in a vacuum.”
At times, the loneliness can be overwhelming. Recently, after a tougher-than-usual week, he found himself sitting in his house, looking at a picture of Carol, crying.
“I cried for two hours,” he says, “and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
John — he insists on being addressed that way, rather than “Mr. Rose” — is still able to take care of himself and get around on his own. He still indulges in his favorite hobby, woodworking. He makes challenging things, like furniture, clocks and musical instruments.
But performing some of life’s basics, such as grocery shopping, can be a major challenge.
The evening before Thanksgiving, John parked in a jam-packed lot at the Walmart in Brimfield. As he was laboring his way across the pavement, using his cane, someone grabbed his arm and said, “Sir, can we help you?”
Next to him were two “young ladies” whom he estimates were 18 or 19 years old. He accepted their aid.
When the trio arrived at the entrance, all of the electric carts were gone. The teens offered to track one down while he waited on a bench.
They found one and helped him climb on, then asked if there was anything else they could do.
“Not really,” he replied. “I just need to get some groceries.”
They said they would help him put his bags in his car after he checked out. And, sure enough, there they were, standing right at the exit.
As the three of them began the return trip, John thought, “What the heck is going on here?”
When he unlocked his SUV, the girls put the groceries in the rear, then accompanied him back to the store entrance to drop off the electric cart.
As they were walking back out, one of them said, “Sir, what are you going to do for Thanksgiving?”
He replied, “Me and my shadow are going to have Thanksgiving,” and explained his situation.
The girls asked whether he’d like a Thanksgiving meal. He said, “Well, that would be nice.”
They asked for his address and promised to be there by noon.
He thanked them and asked their names. They wouldn’t tell him.
“I said to myself, ‘Uh-oh. There’s something fishy here.’ ”
Quite understandably, given the stories we hear, he feared they might be trying to take advantage of a senior citizen, or maybe just messing with him.
John asked their names again, saying he wanted to thank them by name, but again they refused.
As he climbed into his vehicle, they said, “See you tomorrow.” He thought, “Yeah, sure.”
But at 11:30 the next morning — Thanksgiving Day — his doorbell rang. It was the two teens, this time accompanied by an older woman — their mother.
The trio held a huge platter covered with aluminum foil, and another smaller plate.
John told the mother, “I’m John Rose.” But, just like her kids, she wouldn’t reciprocate.
Still, these people were up to some good. He said “God bless you,” and asked if they were affiliated with a church that was doing this as a project.
“They said, ‘No, we feel sorry for people and just try to make their life a little brighter.’ ”
They told him what was on the smaller plate — home-made pumpkin pie and dinner rolls — but didn’t go into detail about the big platter.
“I came in and opened it up and — holy mackerel, Bob — there was turkey, turkey and more turkey in there, both white meat and dark meat. There was a great big helping of stuffing. Some cranberry sauce. Mash potatoes and gravy. Green beans. And whole-kernel corn.
“I got three meals out of it!”
Before they left, he again asked their names, saying he wanted to be able to tell people who had done this good deed. They weren’t interested in recognition. They were interested only in making a difference in the life of a stranger.
The holiday season doesn’t get much better than that.
Bob Dyer can be reached at 330-996-3580 or bdyer@thebeaconjournal.com. To find his podcast, “Dyer Necessities,” go to www.ohio.com/dyer. He also is on Facebook at www.facebook.com/bob.dyer.31