My newest hero is so stubborn, he dares to eat the peach
FIRST PUBLISHED - August, 2016
“Do I dare to eat a peach?” – The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot
Jim is my father-in-law.
He marches to the beat of his own drummer, just turned 80 years old, and was recently diagnosed with cancer. He is also rapidly becoming one of my heroes.
Jim is tall, broad-shouldered and, perhaps due to a partial hearing loss, has a deep inner life. If the stream of conversation eludes him during gatherings he will often smile and remark, “Sorry, I was at my own meeting.”
He is good-natured and his emotions run deep. Proof of this is evident at every family event when he says a few words. After fits and starts as he struggles to hold back tears, we usually nominate someone seated nearby to offer a simultaneous translation of his intended message.
Preferring solo endeavours, Jim’s lone wolf philosophy has served him well in a successful career in wastewater equipment sales (“It might be shit to you, but it’s my bread and butter.”) and in myriad projects around the home.
Moving from one obsession to the next, Jim’s current preferences are apple cider vinegar and avocados – consumed with Swiss-watch punctuality and Internet-based claims of extraordinary benefits, from blemish removal to improved regularity.
His diagnosis hit us all pretty hard. All of us save Jim. After surgery, they discovered some more of the bastard cells and proposed chemo as the next course of action.
The medical team emphasized that for many 80-year-old men chemo would not have been an option – but Jim keeps himself in remarkable fighting form.
In spite of his affliction, his lawn and garden have not suffered from neglect. In 36C degree weather, usually on the days after chemo, Jim is out there mowing the grass, tending to his tomatoes, and endlessly tinkering with his homemade irrigation system.
After his first couple of rounds, when he was advised that he’d better pace himself or risk a prolongation of the treatments, I took it upon myself to lecture Jim. I chided him for his never-ending activities and begged him to spend more time in his La-Z-Boy.
The very next day, Sue and I were walking along the waterfront, appreciating the beauty of a summer’s day when we heard a shrill whistle.
We turned to see Jim in his kayak, grinning from ear to ear. Ignoring the request to pace himself (but heeding the nurses’ advice that he avoid the sun) there he was paddling along in a long-sleeve woollen sweater.
Sue began to panic as she imagined him tipping and struggling to stay afloat with the absorbent garment weighing him down.
Not hearing our impassioned cries, (or choosing not to hear them… hard to tell) he kept smiling, turned and paddled away at an impressive clip.
It was then I realized that my lecturing of Jim was misguided and pointless. What I first saw as stubbornness I now see in an entirely new light.
At age 80, his golf game is actually improving and his ardour for my mother-in-law, Carol, appears more intense than ever. Jim is fighting – and he’s eating the peach with gusto. He cares not where the juice may run or on which woollen sweater it may drip.
No complaints, no self-pity. Just a zeal to live life to the fullest – every detail, every moment, every day.
May we all be so stubborn as Jim - my newest hero.
