An Old Geezer Leaves a Lasting Impression

It seems there is one on every street — that old geezer who doesn’t appreciate the antics of young people growing up within puck shot of their driveway. The old guy with no patience, no sense of humor and no idea that he has made himself a target just by being ‘that’ old guy.

My kids had their turn driving the old fart who lived down the street from us to distraction when they were young. They, and all the other little hooligans on the cul de sac, drew great pleasure in getting under that old man’s skin. I’m not proud of this, and I certainly didn’t condone it. Most of the time I didn’t even know it was happening, but it was.

The street hockey net in the centre of the road was a real sore spot for that grumpy old man. As were the colorful chalk drawings – giant daisies with multi-colored leaves, rainbows, stick people with huge smiling faces – all made him mutter and shake his head as he took his walk to the mailbox at the corner. The kids practicing on their two wheelers were cause for a prolonged horn honk if he happened to be driving by while they were pedaling. Anything that resembled fun was taboo. I think that old geezer left his sense of humor sometime back before time began, his mouth was set in a permanent frown. His attitude toward the kids was a magnet for pranks.

It wasn’t until the kids grew up that they finally came clean about all their antics. Apparently the little devil from four doors up used to take aim with his slap shot and bounce a tennis ball off the rear window of the old guy’s Pontiac as he drove by. That particular little devil had an angelic face and a look of innocence that fingered his little brother every time. The old guy couldn’t tell the boys apart and their parents were suspect of his claims of harassment, even when he had a witness. Boys will be boys, they said.

I think the old geezer got tired of complaining to parents who were happy watching street hockey games from their front windows and dishing out art supplies to tiny Picassos. Cul de sacs are generally kid friendly places, it wasn’t an accident so many children lived on the street. The old man was outnumbered every which way from the day he moved in. I don’t know what he was thinking when he and his aging wife purchased their house, the tricycles littering front lawns should have given him a clue to what was in store for them.

The old man eventually passed away with very little fanfare. Several months flew by before the kids realized they hadn’t been honked at in a while. They were a little sad when they heard the news but they certainly didn’t miss him. I think that old man left a bigger impression on me and the other parents on the street than he did on the kids – he was exactly who we didn’t want to become.

All those rambunctious kids who drove that old fart crazy have grown up and moved away, many of them have children of their own. They visit the cul de sac on sunny days and unload bikes with training wheels from the back of their SUVs. Grandparents applaud as the next generation of athletes and artists practice their crafts on the quiet street. Nobody honks or complains. Unlike chalk drawings and childhood the old man seems to have left a lasting impression.