Mr. McGoo type old veteran
Photo: Getty Images
He was neat as a pin, freshly shaved with a Mr. McGoo type of sweet confusion. He was dressed in a lint-free, wrinkle-free sport coat, trousers, a VA baseball cap, his cane and bedroom slippers. He talked with the bus driver for quite some time. I was late of course and needed to get on with my very important day. He appeared to be holding a check.
Realizing that the driver and her newest passenger weren’t getting anywhere, I offered to help. Mr. McGoo was holding an MB Financial Bank check, unsigned and made out to no one, there was no bank address. He said that it was at 4300 North Broadway and that he’d been going there for 60 years. We tried to explain that he would need to get off this bus and get on a northbound bus.
The old guy, 70 if not 80, was very confused. He wanted to get to MB Financial Bank at 4300 North Broadway—where he had banked for 60 years. So, we explained again: We were 3600 north, headed south. He was totally confused about how to get to 4300 North Broadway and at times, it was clear that he wasn’t totally sure that was where he needed to go.
I offered to walk with him across the street to catch a northbound bus. He was trusting as we crossed the street. His hands were soft as a rose petal, his working days long over, like my father’s hands when he reached that stage.
His bus was coming so I left him at the corner, motioned that he should go North and went back to my waiting, southbound bus. Sobbing, I delivered a lecture to my fellow passengers that went something like: “anyone who saw what just happened and still plans to vote for George Bush must be crazy because this is how this country treats its elderly and its veterans.” Then I sat down and cried for a long time. No one came to comfort me. No one said anything at all – except when I got off, the bus driver said that I made her cry too.
Our driver flagged the oncoming driver to let him know about the old man who would be on the corner but wanted to get to MB Financial Bank at 4300 North Broadway. I hope that he got where he was going. But even more, I hope that he has a haven somewhere, perhaps a family that loves him or at least a facility that cares about him.
And, I hope for our country that we can somehow summon the political will to address the disgraceful way that huge chunks of our population are treated. When I come home from school at midnight and I see single mothers on the L with their toddlers, coming home from wherever, a little piece of me dies. That family is so far short of the infrastructure that permits them to properly rear and care for a child, who then must compete for jobs and resources on a severely skewed playing field. They are born with no advantages and then punished when they can’t compete.
I wish that George Bush’s and his “haves and have mores, his base,” will come to the realization that no one really wins unless we all win.
Terry Edlin
Chicago, IL
