Words Spring Eternal From Lives Well Lived

We gather every Friday at 1 o’clock looking expectantly to see if all 14 of us are present. One week, Giacomo and Grace could not make it. Giacomo has Parkinson’s disease, and sometimes it’s a little more than he can handle. Grace ignores her arthritic knees for the most part, but every now and then the spirit wearies.

This week we’ve all managed to come, the Creative Writers Group at the Colfax Senior Center. The weekly ritual begins. The assorted papers surface from the manila folders and oversize notebooks. Many are written on empty space salvaged from pieces previously used. Some are neatly typed or processed on a computer by those persistent enough to challenge the mysterious intricacies of the machine. Helen, who is a talented painter, deprecates modestly in advance, a poem inspired by a profusion of flowers seen from her window. She is startled by the reaction because we are moved at the depth of color and life her words have captured.

Rose, perhaps the shyest of the lot, is still working at 72 to supplement her Social Security. She carries on with her characterization of an older woman rocking alone and reminiscing aloud about her children, her joys and her disappointments.

The poetry flows. Alligators, and other denizens, allegorically roam the forests and the glades, imparting wisdom and sharing experiences only the imagination conjures up.

Mar has parked his walker. He has written about the “Legend of the Mountain,” a folk tale his father told him when Mar was a child in the Philippines. The symbolism and emotion unfold as we each read a portion. Mar cannot speak clearly since a stroke affected his speech.

Izzy pours this week’s energy into a cause. However, Izzy always has a cause. Last week a newly painted wall in his neighborhood was smothered in graffiti. The frustration and anger spilled over, and Izzy diverted them into a rhapsodic protest against ugliness.

Sophie is somewhat apologetic. She is empty this week. A sick grandchild demanded much of her attention. It is almost a certainty sometime in the near future a metaphorical poem of troubling winds and inner courage will echo her feelings.

Louise deserves to be our first emissary to alien worlds. Her fertile imagination has already resolved many of the conflicts that may arise.

For those of you who would decry the lack of romance and caring in today’s world, take heart, much of it is still vibrant and alive. The repository is generously contributed to by 20-year-old minds confined in 70-year-old bodies. We will pass them on to a younger generation.

Passion does not stop at 65. Somewhere in Racine, Augusta, Albuquerque, Yakima and in the inclusive et cetera, it happens on a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday or perhaps on a Thursday. For me, in the Valley of San Fernando, the trip to the spiritual bank occurs on Friday.

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Sam Rubenstein is a retired Los Angeles Unified School District teacher.