Hopi Indians, a Wheelchair, and Six Inch Heels

Last Friday I saw the most amazing thing!  But first, let me tell you a story related to me many years ago by a Hopi Indian while I lived in Oregon.  He told me a story he had heard from his grandfather, who heard it from his grandfather, so whether it is true is anybody’s guess.  But I love the story, and treasured it in my heart ever since I heard it.  So here it goes.

A long time ago there was a tribe who experienced a sudden flood, and had to quickly run to higher ground to save themselves.  But there were two people who couldn’t move quickly, and so they were put into the branches of a tree, to sit until the flood receded – hopefully the water would not reach them.  One of them was blind, and one was lame.  The blind one kept asking the lame one how high the water was.  Eventually the lame man said that the water was no longer rising.  ‘It is too high for me to walk safely,’ he told the blind man, ‘but you are taller than me and you could walk through the water and join our tribe.’  But the blind man was afraid to walk in the water because he couldn’t see.  Well, I am sure you have guessed what happened!  The blind man took the lame man onto his shoulders and together they managed the feat neither could do on his own, namely to walk through the flood waters and join their tribe on higher grounds.

Why I love that story so much I am not sure.  Perhaps it is because I have always been very aware of my own weaknesses, and loved the idea that if only I could find someone who complemented them I could be as strong as everyone else seemed to be.  I have learned since then that everyone else is just as weak as I am, only perhaps not as aware of it, and so the need to accommodate each other’s weaknesses seems even more necessary – what I used to think was my problem is in fact everyone’s problem!

Anyway, this is what I saw the other day.  A couple, both in their eighties, were passing me on the road.  She was in a wheelchair, and he was blind.  She was giving him very detailed directions, pointing out every tiny obstacle to him, while not forgetting to give him a running commentary of what she saw – she described the autumn flowers, the delivery boy from the butchers shop on his bike, the window displays, and the dog doing unmentionables at the lamppost nearby.  He paid close attention to her while pushing the wheelchair, avoiding every obstacle, taking every care to ensure that she didn’t get bumped.  And he clearly appreciated her descriptions, and commented on them.  I followed this couple for ten minutes – here was an embodiment of the story of the lame and the blind Indians who saved themselves by complementing each others weaknesses!

Most people’s initial reaction when I told them about this couple was pity – poor things, having to cope with so much adversity in their old age, was the usual reaction.  But I think pity is completely inappropriate.  Here are two people who, despite their difficulties, are in charge of their lives and enjoying it as best they can.  Moreover, anyone who observed the tenderness and consideration they showed each other could not help but envy them.  Would a hired help show such consideration either to the blind man or the wheelchair-bound woman while shepherding them around?  I doubt it.  This old couple is reaping the benefit of a lifetime of treating each other with love and respect. 

In any relationship, especially a romantic one, there will be times when we have to rely on our partner’s love and respect to overcome difficulties.  When we are tired or depressed, when we lose a job, when a parent dies, when we have trouble at work, when we experience midlife crisis, or when life is just too difficult for whatever reason – during such times the love and support of our partner is crucial in helping us overcome our pain and get back on our feet.

The young and middle aged can just about cope with such adversity on their own, but when Old Age reaches out its withered arm to grasp us tightly, an inconsiderate or cold hearted partner can be very bitter indeed.  It is easy to confuse Love and Lust when young – according to an expert quoted in the Kamasutra every good looking man is attracted to every good looking woman and vice versa – but when we are old and decrepit such deceit is no longer possible.  As we lose our friends and relatives to death one by one, as work no longer provides distraction and entertainment, as we deteriorate physically and can no longer get out and about quite so much, the circle of our life becomes more restricted and centred on our home and the ones we share it with. 

Unfair as it seems, in Old Age we reap what we sowed when we were younger.  As we become increasingly dependent on the good will of others, our kindness and generosity, or selfishness and arrogance, will come back to reward or haunt us.  We all know examples of this.  A son takes his old parents into his house and cares for them without feeling angry and resentful.  A wife nurses her husband lovingly for decades after he becomes infirm.  But also old parents getting abused by the children they mistreated when they were young.  Or the long suffering spouse who chafed under a dominant partner and takes her revenge after the tyrant has a stroke and can no longer defend himself. 

Of course I do not claim that we all get the rewards we deserve in life.  For example, many terrible parents managed to raise dutiful children who sacrifice themselves for them when they are old.  Nevertheless, chances are that you will have a happier old age if you were loving, considerate, and helpful to others, most especially to your partner.

There is another amazing thing I saw recently, this time in Paris.  An old lady was walking across the street near the Place de la Concorde.  She held herself very upright, and was beautifully dressed and made up.  Her white hair was like a cloud around her face, her hands were immaculately manicured, her Kelly bag was polished to a high sheen, and her silk scarf perfectly matched her Chanel suit.  And she wore six inch killer heels!  What is remarkable about that?  She walked with a Zimmer frame.  Slowly and with great dignity she put one six inch heeled foot before the other, lifted the frame, moved it a few inches, took another step – she progressed excruciatingly slowly across this very busy road.  But no one honked their horns or shouted at her to speed up.  Everyone waited respectfully while this Grande Dame slowly inched herself across the street.  Here was someone who proudly, even haughtily, insisted on sticking to her lifestyle and routine.  She wasn’t going to stay safely tucked up in an old people’s home, wearing sensible shoes and shapeless cardigans, and eat gruel while awaiting death! 

May all of you either have as loving and supporting a partner as that woman in the wheelchair and her blind spouse have, or the strength and dignity of that Parisian lady, when you are old and grey!