Point of View

The Day with Dory

I woke early and was greeted by the crisp air of a desert morning. The clouds broke over the valley as the autumn sun poked its eager face over the mountain summits, their shadows stretched out in sprawl. I planned on an early start the night prior, having cleaned and pressed a fresh uniform in preparation for the Veteran’s Day Parade. I have made it tradition to attend the parade each year, taking time from my airport duties to do so. I justify this personal day all my own, having earned it as a veteran, although it’s not a popular practice among the higher-ups in my company. Each year I’ll “latch” onto a Marine unit, or join the Marines of my former unit and march the three mile parade route through the city. It’s a time to catch up with old friends and meet some new ones. I have had the honor of meeting Walter Cronkite, a group of Tuskegee Airmen as well as the mayor of Phoenix and governor of Arizona. One year I convinced our mayor to climb aboard our five-ton tactical truck and pose with my platoon. Every other day of the year such personalities are practically “untouchable,” but during the Veteran’s Day festivities, they roam the parade route and are willing to do just about anything to oblige the veteran’s.
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This year I decided to change my routine slightly and see what I could do to help out at the assisted living wing of the hospital. Each year the residents are escorted to the parade route and invited to take part in the parade that is, after all, honoring them. I signed in as normal and went to C-1 to greet the residents and nursing staff a welcome morning. The floor was bustling with youngster volunteers and hospital staff preparing the residents for the parade. I was impressed with the younger crowd and their interaction with the residents. They stopped being young “kids” and took on the responsibility of caring for our elder generation in true form with gentleness and sincere kindness. It gave me hope for our younger generation, if only for the day. I made my rounds as well greeting Mr. Brady, who I found near the nurses station and asked if he wanted to see the parade. He was less then receptive of the idea at first, but after some very good salesmanship on my part, sold him on the idea of spending the afternoon in the sun with unlimited access to his cigarette stash. Next, I found Dory sitting alone, hunched over, wrapped in her blue terry robe and tan slipper-socks and asked if she would accompany me to the parade. Her warm smile lit up although she too declined at first. The staff nurse told me I was wasting my time as she hasn’t left the wing in years. Well, not one to turn down a challenge, I turned up the charm and soon had another willing participant.
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We gathered up a few hats, some bottled waters, and sun-screen and made the necessary rest-room stops before heading out the front lobby doors. It was a lengthy “walk” as we pushed our partnered-patients to the parade route. A parade of our own took place as the convoy of wheelchairs made its way along the hospital grounds; Dory looking back from time-to-time asking who I was. After many re-introductions, she settled into her chair, American flag in hand, and was ready for the start of the parade. Mr. Brady patiently waited for his cigarette and was soon quietly puffing away under a tree behind the wall of wheel chair bound residents.
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The parade kicked off right on time with a platoon of service members carrying a huge American flag that stretched the width of the street, followed by one of many high school bands, cheerleading squads and rows of military tactical vehicles. One by one the floats passed by, pausing slightly to display their sparkle and elegance before moving forward down 7th Street. The clouds broke formation and warmed our faces as the temperature climbed to 85 degrees, Dory looked back to ask who I was once more before telling me that she was becoming uncomfortable in the sun and wanted to return home. I excused myself to Mr. Brady who was contently enjoying the parade and his abundant supply of unrestricted cigarettes and returned Dory to her room. By time I made my way back to the parade route, Mr. Brady was being pushed back along with many of the other residents.
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The event continued with a huge picnic lunch, live music, and local news media interviewing residents and family members. I went to check in on Dory, who had become “my girl” for the day and invited her to the picnic lunch. It took less effort this time round and we all enjoyed the closing ceremony and music of Veteran’s Day. I later learned from Nurse Lisa that Dory had reported my well mannered behavior and “striking good looks” but said she wouldn’t be able to see me again because “she’s just too old for me.” How cute I thought as Lisa and I shared the moment in laughter. I gathered up my belongings and “broken heart” and made my way home after the long day, another Veteran’s Day memory behind me.