A Blue Buddha
Gerald was sitting in a wingchair in the lobby, waiting. His walker was in reach of his right hand.
“Sorry I’m late, Gerry – traffic.”
“No problem. Leaves me alone with my thoughts.”
“Is that the good news or the bad news?”
“You tell me. I’m trying to be philosophical. Like my doc tells me, ‘a day at a time.’”
Gerald reaches across with his left hand to the top of the chair, twists, and stands with a grunt, muttering over his shoulder, “I call that the ‘GoBMer,’ the good old boy maneuver, one of my many old boy tricks. Got to remember to get your right knee around on the seat as you grab the back of the chair. Then it’s a piece of cake. I’m giving the senior-senior residents a class in it next week. Minimum age – 85. You can enroll early, get a good seat.”
Tom laughs. “Going to hold off for a while on that class. I seem to be doing well on my own, but thanks. And you?”
“Not too bad, all considering. You don’t mind walking slowly, I’ll leave my old ‘shuffle and blow’ here.” He points to the metal tag on the back of the tray: Simon and Brothers, Mfg. “S & B.”
“There’s no rush, Gerry. We’re not going anywhere. Getting nasty out there: damp with a drizzle threatening. Thought we’d just go a block or two, stay close to home and beat a hasty retreat if it starts to rain.”
“Fine by me: left foot, right foot or is it right foot, left foot?” He grabs the cane hanging on the near arm of the walker.
“Works either way, Ger. You need a hand?”
Gerald turns and waves at the receptionist who buzzes them out. He winks at Tom and says, “Nah, got this sword cane, keep the women off.”
They turn right at the end of the entry drive. At the corner Tom asks, “You up for another block?”
His friend tries for a James Cagney look, waves his cane in front of his face, and delivers his lines. “Sure, can’t wait to blow this place. You in?”
They start to cross as soon as the light changes. An impatient driver in the oncoming lane tries to cut in front of the two old men. Gerry stands his ground, pushes his cane at the hood.
“Clearly he doesn’t know who he’s messing with.”
Tom starts to say something a couple of times in the next half block.
“Spit it out, Tommy.”
“Sorry, Gerry. Just thinking that after all the years we’ve know each other, not much left to say. Anyhow, how have you been sleeping?”
“Hrmmph. Pills not working all that good. Most nights I got to get up to pee and then can’t fall back to sleep for hours. Read an article in one of the magazines people dump in our common room about imaging, kind of like meditation. Seems to help a bit.”
“So what is it you do?”
“Article made a suggestion that I liked about going for tranquility. Not as easy as you may think. Took me weeks to understand it a little bit. I guess you got to try it first to understand. They suggested making yourself comfortable, relaxing and then picturing in your mind some tranquil location. Trust me, I tried lots of locations. Couldn’t keep my mind still for more than a few seconds with any of them. So I went with this picture of a small pond with a couple of lily pads floating in it; it was one of the pictures in the article.”
“That start to work for you?”
“Not really. For weeks the magazine picture became misty, things out of focus. Finally all I could see was a grey mist rising off of some body of water. Took me a couple of weeks to get color. I had to work hard. Imagine. I went into our common room and grabbed a couple of pieces of chalk from on top of one of the blackboards. Stood there, closed my eyes, and scratched some green trees on the banks of the lake and then used the side of the chalk to circle in a couple of lily pads. It wasn’t easy. I’m no artist.”
“I hope you didn’t lose any sleep over it.”
“Nah. As I said, I was doing all this with my eyes closed. Besides, I never could draw so all this was in my imagination. Close your eyes, relax and picture a pond with some lily pads. Took me a while before I realized all mine were grey and misty. Yeah, and my doc says we should be watching my cataracts. They’re not getting any better.”
“Sorry to hear about that. Had mine out years ago. Was going toask them about getting blue lenses. Whatever.” By this time they’ve reached the next corner. Tom asks, “You up for another block?”
“Always like to do halves. Let’s go right here and turn back midblock. As far as the cataracts go, he said I’d could have 20-20 vision again and I told him that maybe that wasn’t such a good idea with all the hot babes we have in the home. He didn’t think it was very funny, said, ‘Mr. Stanley, not to worry, it’s only the ones with cataracts going to be chasing you.’ What a grouch, just wait until he gets to be our age.”
They fall silent, reach midblock two minutes later, and turn around. They’re back at the home in twenty minutes. Tom promises to call next week and watches as Gerald goes to retrieve his walker.
***
Ten days go by before Tom calls. He apologizes. “I’ve been getting over a cold. How are you doing, Gerry?”
“Same old, same old. Been working on the lily pad.”
“Any better focus?”
“Yeah, I brought things in closer – shrunk the lake to a large pond and started by seeing myself standing at the edge of the pond with an overgrown dirt path behind me. Then I backed up and pictured myself walking down the trail. Changed the pond so there was a small cove on my right, and on the far side where the cove opened to the pond that’s where I pictured the lily pads. By that time I fell asleep.”
Tom sneezes, blows his nose. “Sorry, Gerry. Not doing too well. Look, I’ll hit this with vitamin C and chicken soup. I’ll call you in a week.”
“No problem. You take care.”
***
Gerry calls two weeks later.“Tom, haven’t heard from you and got worried. You’re too far away for even a rugged guy like me to walk over and bang on your door. How are you doing?”
“A little better now. I needed antibiotics. A pesky sniffle is holding out but that should be gone by next week, And you?”
“Not too bad. Been trying to get out more but there’s only one other old coot can keep up with me and my walker and he seems to have caught the same bug that got you.”
“Sorry to hear about your friend. Keep your wheels oiled and I’ll try to come next Thursday afternoon about 1. How are your lily pads doing?”
“Better and bigger. Thought I’d have some fun so I enlarged one and floated it around the point into the pond. A breeze came up and blew it farther away from me to the far side of the pond. Next a mist rose from the lake and made things hazy. Just as bad as it was before. But I’m working on it.”
“Good for you. So next Thursday’s OK?”
“Perfect. My calendar is still open. See you then.”
***
It’s Thursday and Gerry is waiting in the entryway when Tom buzzes the receptionist. She releases the door. Gerry opens his eyes, seems startled to find his hands on his walker.
“Been waiting long, Gerry?”
“Couple of minutes. Must have fallen asleep; came here after lunch. Don’t recall leaving my hands on the walker. Word on the street is there’s a market for ‘hot’ walkers. Can’t trust anyone.”
“Good lunch?”
“Well good enough to put me to sleep. If they’d send up lunch at 2 – 3 in the morning I’d be able to eat and fall asleep, wouldn’t need all this imaging.”
Tom laughs. “You work that out, delivery on late-night snacks, and I’d consider moving in here with you.”
Gerry reaches out with his right hand. “I could use a little pull here, Tom, if you don’t mind.”
Tom extends his arm, turns his wrist in. “Grab my wrist, Ger, like “thedaring young man on the flying trapeze.”
Gerry shakes his head. “‘Daring young man on the flying trapeze?’ You start the day drinking, like W.C. Fields?”
“Well, the film goes back to when we were kids. Or maybe I saw it on cable – you get old, who can remember? But I did have a glass of kombucha with lunch.”
“We’re spared the really healthy stuff, in case that helps motivate you to move here.”
They finally lock wrists and Tom helps him to stand.
Gerry thanks him and asks, “OK, do you know why we’re such good friends?”
Tom raises an eyebrow. “No. But I know you’re going to tell me.”
“Simple. We’re matching book ends, at the opposite ends of the alphabet: G is the seventh letter from the front and T is the seventh letter in from the back. A matching pair.”
“I’m guessing you came up with that one night when you got tired of imaging your lily pads. Let’s head on out, partner.”
Gerry pushes his walker through the double doors and when they get to the street he stops, looks around, squeezes the grips, and lets out a long, low rumble. He smiles.
“As I said months ago: good old S & B, shuffle and blow...it out the other end. Not too many pleasures left in life for an old fart like me. Lead on, Tom, lead on.”
Tom turns left this time. When they reach the corner he asks if they should turn back.
“Not a problem. If you got the time maybe we can continue on this convoluted path, at least it’s counterclockwise; and like superman, if we go fast enough maybe I can get back to my youthful days and not need this walker. You think?”
Tom laughs. “Could be. Do you know how to get your walker out of second gear?”
Gerry fills in the details. “The Playmates, 1958. Those Nash Ramblers were funky cars.”
“As you said, matching bookends are we.”
Gerry stops. “Give me a sec.” He coughs once or twice into his handkerchief, smiles, and continues.
“You know, Tom, been reading more on imaging and think that what I’m doing with that lily pad is more like a meditation. I’ve extended it to where I’m walking along a country road and then turning into that dirt trail I mentioned before. The trail’s got a hump in the middle with grass and weeds growing freely. Probably some a boat launch twenty years back. That’s how I get to the lake. The pond grewthese last few weeks with the spring rains – I’m joking.”
“Joking?”
“No. And I’m more like that Google Map-man floating down the road effortlessly. No potholes or ripples. Do you think Google edits them out for their app?”
“Interesting question, Ger. But go on. Now you’re down at the edge of the lake. What’s happening with the lily pads?”
“They’re getting bigger. I can see a large one in the distance and there’s something sitting on it. Trouble is I’ve fallen asleep before I can get it into focus. But I’m working on it.”
“Good for you. By next time then.”
They turn around and walk back to the home.”
***
It’s three weeks before Tom and Gerry meet again. Gerry is waiting inside and aide helps him up as Tom approaches the reception desk.
“Be with you in a minute, Tom.”
They slowly walk down the entry drive and stop. “Near corner be enough of a challenge this time, Tom. Been a couple of rough weeks.”
“No problem. How’s your meditation coming along?”
“Great. I can tell that the form on the lily pad is some kind of Buddha sitting cross-legged. There’s a grey cape over his shoulders, blends in with the mist rising off the lake. Got to be damp out there and that’s why he needs the cape.”
“Nice, Ger. Sounds like you’re getting to be old friends.”
“Not there yet. We’ll see. You never can tell. Let’s head back. As I said, a couple of tough weeks.”
Gerald calls five days later.
“Hi, Tom. Remember that mist? Well I think I caught a chill from it and have been laid up the last few days. Hold off coming by. Good news though. That Buddha seems to be floating towards me. The lily pad in front seems to be pulling him. There’s a rice noodle tied to the stem the Buddha’s holding in his right hand. His left hand is still palm up resting on his knee. Strange.
“I’ve got to go. The nurse is at the door with my meds.”
***
A week later Tom calls the home and learns that Gerald has been moved to the “recovery” wing. He comes the next day during visiting hours. The nurse on the floor asks that he limit his visit to ten minutes.
“How’re you doing, buddy?”
“Not too bad.”
Gerry uses the control to raise the back of his bed another twenty degrees. “I’ve my ups and downs as you can see. Sorry you can’t stay long. Been thinking. May as well tell you where I’m at with my meditation. Last time the Buddha was only fifteen feet away from where I was standing on the shore. I can see him clearly and he’s a pretty robin’s egg blue. He’s still holding that spaghetti noodle in his right hand but now he’smaking a gesture with the back of his left hand and the lily pad in front starts to float towards me. He smiles and asks me to step on the lily pad and sit.”
“That’s some meditation, Ger. Blue Buddha. Are you going to get on it?”
The nurse comes into the room and points to her watch.
Gerald smiles weakly. “Too early to tell, Tom, too early to tell.”
“Let me know the next time I visit. Got to hand it to you, Ger,a blue Buddha.”
***
It’s not quite 2:30 when Gerry half wakes that morning. He’s not sure if he’s dreaming or meditating as he finds himself slowly floating above the county road. He hovers for a moment above the surface and then moves rapidlyalong, watching clusters of bright devil’s paintbrush passin blurs at the side of the road. Dandelions are in various stages of bloom; thistles and spikes of wild raspberries line both sides of the drainage ditches off the shoulders.
He makes the turn into the trail and is standing at the edge of the lake. He looks up and there is the lily pad and behind it, his blue Buddha smiles and opens his left hand, inviting him to step on board.Gerry steps forward and sits effortlessly, no longer feeling pain in his joints. He crosses his legs in lotus pose. He leans forward as Buddha inclines towards him. He’s aware of a soft kiss on his forehead.