Rt. #16 Bee-Line Bus Memoirs: The Elderly Woman and the Metal-Green Walker Pt. I

Rt. #16 Bee-Line Bus Memoirs: 

The Elderly Woman and the Metal-Green Walker Pt. I

  I exit the automatic doors at the Mall and head towards the passenger depot to wait for the #16 Bus to Peekskill.  It’s 9:45pm and the mall closed only 15 minutes before.  The last bus to Peekskill leaves at 9:50pm.  My feet could use a rest, so immediately I approach one of two benches because it appears there is a place to sit. As I walk over to the bench I notice an elderly woman that has been coming into the Gap to shop for many years now: however, we lost touch because I was promoted to a higher volume store.  She was one of my favorites.

    Years ago – working at Gap in the mall, and an elderly woman slowly made her way into the store pushing her walker.  At first glance I was concerned for her because she was moving very carefully and slowly, and with so many bags.  It is not often that people her age are outside in public areas alone: I waited for minutes to see if someone would follow her or come looking for her in the store.  She had the kind of walker- it was like a three-in-one- metallic green walker, a shopping cart with basket, and a seat for a place to rest if she needed to.  She had miscellaneous bags, almost like a bag woman.  To me, it was obvious she was in her 80s if not early 90s.  Immediately I was attracted to her and the way she was looking around as if she were exploring the store for the first time: she seemed very aware of her surroundings.  In addition, I was attracted to her strength and courage: in fact, it was adorable.  So, I made my way over to her slowly as not to startle her, and she saw me coming.  She is basically hunched over because of the position she is in while pushing the walker, but even standing up she may be at most: four feet tall.

    She was wearing what many women at this age wear when they go walking or exercising: her, ‘active clothes’.  She donned a sweat suit, bottom and top matching, and best of all she sported a baseball cap.  She had small feet, and her shoes one could tell were special because they looked like shoes out of a cartoon- like two small balloons at the base of each leg.  As I approached her she looked directly into my eyes.  As I got closer I expected her to look away, or look around, but she did no such thing.  I continued to look back at her and smiled.  The less distance between us the more I liked about her, the more I could see what she was towing all by herself, and in close I could see all the places she had been in the day already because of the variety of different size shopping bags hanging from and rigged to her metal-green walker. 

    I said hello to her and told her that my name was Freddie: she smiled then, and gave rest to her serious face.  Her face did not appear angry, but it looked like she was focused, thinking, unapproachable for most people. It is a shame to say but I figured she would not get much attention form anyone so I chose to give her ALL of mine.

    Walking over to her, I said hello.  She did not smile, only looked back at me in silence. However, she smiled when I said, “My name is, “Freddie.” I immediately asked her if there was anything I could do for her, was there any way that I may help her, and she laughed a little laugh as if she was flattered by the attention or she was laughing at the over-the-top-vibrant style of customer service I provide: I believe at first, she took my hospitality for sarcasm, or not to be genuine.  So she was kind to bite her lip.

She responded with a smile and said, “Hello Freddie, I’m Holly.” 

Not being able to make out what she said I muttered, “Excuse me?”

    She said, “Your name Freddie?” as if she may have been annoyed by my lack of hearing- while I am nodding yes - she tells me again: “Well, my name ‘ Holly.”  She had a southern twist in her accent as if she moved to New York from down south or mid-west but never let go of the accent.  She reminded me of my gramma- my father’s mother.  My gramma is a beautiful African American woman who was raised in the Alabama-Tennessee area, and then moved north to New York with her uncle.

    I smiled and bowed my head gently, “Hello Ms. Holly, very nice to meet you.” She was impressed with my manners.  She asked me what sales were going on inside the store, which was a signal to me that she was very aware of what she was doing, able to communicate what she wants, and she is very capable.  After listing the sales going on within the store for her, she asks me where the sale section is.  She asks,

    “Where is the sale section young man?”  She adds, “Because sometime it’s over here and then sometimes it’s over there!” as she motions to different areas of the store.  I smiled in good measure and said to her, “C’mon Ms. Holly, it’s over here, and I’m a’ walk with you.”  Side by side we walked to the sale section and upon arrival she went straight to the racks.  I asked her if she needed help, and with her back to me shopping the rack, she told me she was fine.

    Watching her as she moved through the store I wondered who she was shopping for, was there anyone else with her at the mall, did she drive, how did she get here, I wondered why she was shopping at all, and where does she get the strength? Did she drive here?  Does she have family with her or around her?  Is she lonely?  I wondered about her life and experiences at first glance.  

    Long while entering the store, she finally made it to the cash wrap.  She puts three hats on the table that were price killed to $3, maybe even lower.  She explains to me that her grandson likes baseball caps, and that she likes the deals Gap stores have, and so she comes in to the Gap time to time to look at the sale rack. She made it clear to me that she only shops sale.

“That’s all I buy,” she tells me.  “Sale, that’s all I buy.”

    Ms. Holly frequented the store and we always greeted each other, and we talked to each other for minutes.  She wouldn’t say much but she would ALWAYS say hello.  She began to make her way to me when she entered the store and I did not see her.  She would always ask me how I was doing and I would tell her that I was okay.  There were times when she could read my face and my body language.  She would stop in her tracks pick her head up to look me directly in my face and Ms. Holly would ask me, “Are you alright?”  No matter what was going on I would always tell her yes, but all the times here senses were correct.

    Ms. Holly and I built a fine relationship as she continued to come into the Gap time to time.  There would be periods of time when I did not see her, and I would worry about her as she crossed my mind.  Most of all, I always worried whether or not she had someone or people that were around her, be there to help and assist her, family, or friends.  As she slowly pushed through into the store it would bring a smile to my face every time, and I began to tell my co-workers that she was my friend and who she was: a quiet celebrity. 

    One day Ms. Holly enters the store with a man who is almost a good 6 feet 8 inches tall to her 4 ft and few inches.  He trailed behind her closely and she did not look back as she walked in front of him.  Wherever she walked in the store, he followed.  As usual I walked directly to Ms. Holly to greet her and be sure she knew I was in the store: if she were to need anything.  As I approach I am sizing up the man and could see he was a young man or an extremely big boy.  I could see that his attention is all over the place, and it seemed as if he couldn’t stop moving: almost like an anxious child.  As I got closer Ms. Holly did not see me coming but he did.  He was two times my size in height and weight, and gave me a look that was so empty and curious that I was a bit intimidated, but of course kept my smile.  He watched me approach Ms. Holly as his attention shifted to her.  She turned and saw me coming and greeted me with her normal smile and hello.  After saying hello to her I said hello to the boy. He looked directly at me, his face did not budge, and he said nothing.  His face was stoic, as if life had left him, and he was about to take mine: the boy was huge.

    There was an awkward pause before Ms. Holly slipped in and explained to me that he was her grandson.  She told me don’t pay him much mind cause he don’t talk.  She didn’t mean for me to pay him no mind as a person, she meant for me not to be offended by his silence.  She explained to me that he was autistic, and it was her and her grandson’s day together, and that she gets one day a week with her grandson, and sometimes she likes to take him outside, “You know, outta da’ house!” she says to me.  Smiling back I tell her, “I understand, Ms. Holly.”  After shopping the two are leaving the store, and I was in awe.  It was pressing, this little elderly woman who I see taking care of herself, doing an amazing job of taking care of her grandson who is 4 times the size of her, and she was in total control with little worries.  My mind with the questions: How much more family does Ms. Holly have?  What else does she devote herself to?  What else does she endure? 

Things happen, and I am promoted out of the store and into a larger location downstate, about 2 ½ hours on the bus.  Ms. Holly and I had lost touch, I never knew if I would see her again, I didn’t know if she was still able to walk around and travel the way she did.  How long would her strength allow her to be her?  Low and behold one day I am walking through my new store and past the sales rack and who do I see Ms. Holly.  Immediately I say hello and she can see how excited I was and I was happy to see that she was also excited to see me.  It was a comforting feeling to know we were friends.  So, I asked her, “Watcha doin’ all the way down here Ms. Holly?”  Then I added, “You far away from home, aren’t you.”  She responded and told me that she needed to get away sometimes so she takes the bus all the way down state to escape, and that she sometimes has doctors appointments in the area.  We hugged, and I told her never to come in the store without asking for me so that I am sure she gets the treatment she deserves.  She assured me that she wouldn’t and she shopped that day, bought nothing, she left, and I never knew if I would see her again.

To be continued…