Older Than Dirt

My family and I had lived in the small house in Drummond for a few months and we got to know all the neighbors fairly well. One neighbor that I had not met, lived on the diagonal corner from where our house was. I hadn't even seen them. As far as I knew, that house was empty. Years later, when I saw the Harry Potter films, they showed the Shrieking Shack and I instantly associated it with that house across the way from us. It was two stories, used to be white, and may have shifted when the wind blew too hard. One morning I had wandered outside and was inspecting the things a four year old inspects; bugs, dirt clods, sticks and cars driving by. As I was looking around I noticed an older lady coming out of the house across the street. I ran into the house and yelled to mom and dad that there was an old lady coming out of the old house. Dad asked me what old house, and I just pointed in the direction of the neighbor. He said that the Brackens lived in that old house. Mom told me that their names were George and Portia Bracken and they had lived there a very long time. In my four year old mind, when I pictured George, I pictured Curious George the monkey. So already I needed to go to that house and see these people. I also thought that the name Portia was interesting since I had never heard it before. Mom said that she would take me over to meet the Brackens after she was done doing whatever it was she was in the middle of doing. As I was getting ready to go meet the neighbors, my dad told me what George used to do for work. (I have since forgotten.) He also mentioned that they were "Older than dirt." That was a brand new phrase for me; older than dirt. I didn't ask what it meant. I just thought about it for the whole time I waited on mom to take me over there. Older than dirt must mean older than the oldest guy at church or maybe even older than Jesus! I didn't know, but I was going to find out. Mom finished what she was doing and asked if I was ready to go. I was more than ready, so we left. We walked across to their house and knocked on the front door. It took a little while, but eventually someone opened the door. It was Portia. I thought, holy mackerel. This lady looks old. Mom said hello and that I wanted to meet them. Portia was happy to see us and immediately let us in. She and my mom talked as I got back into my inspecting mode from earlier. The house was sparsely furnished, dimly lit, and quiet except for a small radio tuned into the news. I was taking it all in when I heard footsteps coming from the kitchen. My eyes grew wide as I anticipated who or what was coming around the corner. It was George. Wow! He was old too! George said hello to my mom and stooped a little bit and asked me who I was. I said my name was Jonathan. He said he was George and he put out his hand to shake, which I did. Portia introduced herself and the two of them sat down in their chairs. Portia said that she had seen me playing in the front yard quite a few times. This freaked me out a little bit since the first time I had seen her was less than an hour ago. I played it cool though. Portia offered me some candy from the dish sitting on the little table between their two chairs. Candy made me forget that I had a mission of knowledge. I went to pick a piece of hard candy from the dish. I selected a bright red and white ribbon and grabbed it. To my amazement, the ribbon candy was solidly stuck to every other piece of candy in the dish. I panicked, jiggled the cluster of candy and a chunk of the ribbon snapped off. Problem diverted! With the candy lodged in my cheek like a squirrel, I was back on task. I leaned on the arm of Portia's chair and asked her, "So, how old are you guys?" I'm glad I didn't see mom's face because I'm sure she was thinking, "I'm gonna kill him when we get out of here." Portia and George laughed very heartily. They loved the question and were happy to tell me. I don't remember specifically, but they were both in their nineties. We continued to talk for a while and had some more laughs. Eventually, mom told them we needed to run some errands, so we went back home. I walked in the door and told my dad that they weren't older than dirt. They were just ninety. Being a parent now, I can imagine the conversation mom and dad had when I left the room.  "He just came right out and asked how old they were!"  A couple of years later, the Brackens would celebrate their 75th wedding anniversary. I would very much liked to have spent more time listening to George and Portia's stories about when they were growing up. Too often we rely on what books say about our history and ignore the stories of the people that were really there for it. I missed my chance with the Brackens because they passed before I realized that their lives, and others like them, were in my history books. It's because of the Brackens that I take the time to listen to stories and ask questions about things I will never experience; fighting in a World War, surviving the dust bowl, having 14 brothers and sisters. I feel that I'm more of a well rounded person because of all the things that have been taught to me by those that have been around a while. Even those that are older than dirt.

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