” I waved back at her and she waved back. Over a short period of several days, we exchanged waves, until one day she asked me to come downstairs because she needed some help moving a larger potted plant on her patio.As I was moving the plant, I looked back at Gladys and asked her where she wanted the pot. She smiled and pointed to a corner of her small patio. The next morning, she asked me to come back downstairs. She wanted the same pot moved to a different corner. I was more than happy to oblige. This went on for a couple of more days until I asked Gladys what was going on.“I’m eighty-one,” she said. “I wished I was twenty-one, because you have a nice tush.”I liked Gladys. She was honestly refreshing and she made a great lasagna. Gladys told me her husband had passed away and I proffered my apologies.“No need to apologize,” said Gladys, “He was an asshole. Why I stayed with him over fifty years is beyond me.”I was stunned by Gladys' declaration. Gladys became the grandmother I never. When his wounds had been treated and Joe was dressed in hisother pair of army trousers and boots, Merry told him, "Still My Jo-Jolet him off easy, handing him over to the cops, You COULD have startedhim on the road to a career in the Vienna boy's choir and no one wouldhave blamed you."Joe could not tell her the real reason he was upset. The real reason hefelt plagued with nagging lingering doubt and creeping self loathing. Hewas weak, He was smaller, and He did not have the commanding physicalpresence and power he had enjoyed for much of his life. When Joe hadbeen a little boy, he had been subjectively smaller and weaker, but thathad been different. It had been a by definition temporary condition.This was different. This was permanent and what was more, he would onlyget weaker as age took him in the fullness of time. Not so very longago, if Joe Bradley had been mugged he would simply have beaten theoffending little turd within an inch of his life. Not now. Not everagain.That was when.
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