It’s interesting to me how many
contemporary novels and movies feature old people as protagonists. Within the
last year I’ve read Noah’s Compass (Anne Tyler), How to Age
Disgracefully (Grace Pooley), and Miss Benson’s Beetle (Rachel
Joyce), among others. Even more movies, including romances, focus on the
elderly. Almost always, the lead characters are portrayed as quirky but people
of value and wisdom—however disguised (think of A Man Called Ove/Otto, Fredick
Backman).
He had made a mess of being a
husband, father, and friend. He had even made a mess of being a son. It wasn’t
simply that he had betrayed Queenie, and that his parents did not want him. It
wasn’t simply that he had made a mess of everything with his wife and son. It
was rather that he had passed through his life and left no impression. He meant
nothing.
Early in the story Harold receives
a letter from an old friend he hasn’t heard from in years. Queenie writes to
tell him that she is dying of cancer and just wants to say goodbye. That’s all.
It’s a short letter, really just a note. It touches Harold and he tries to
write a reply saying he’s sorry, but he struggles with the writing. He walks
down to the mailbox to post the few sentences he finally came up with, but he
can’t drop it in the box. So he walks to a mailbox down the street. And on the
to next, etc., etc. Harold Fry never turns around to go back home. Somewhere
along the way he gets the strong impression that he needs to walk to Queenie’s
nursing home and give her the message in person. He’s convinced that as long as
he keeps walking, Queenie won’t die. Harold lives on the southern coast of
England; Queenie’s hospice home is some 700 miles away in the north of the
country.
Harold would have been the
first to admit that there were elements to his plan that were not finely tuned.
He had no walking boots or compass, let alone a map or change of clothes. The
least planned part of the journey, however, was the journey itself. He hadn’t
known he was going to walk until he started.
The book is the story of his pilgrimage, the
challenges he faces, the people he meets along the way, and what happens at the
end. Without going into the details of the plot (read the book for yourself), I
want to reflect on what I learned from this story, things Harold told me about
older people without intending to, which is just like him.
--An ordinary person, even an
older one, can take on an extraordinary task, even without the assurance of
success. That speaks to my condition, as the Quakers say. I’ve taken on a
project of writing poetry through every book of the Bible, a task that will
probably take the rest of my life. It seems huge.
--It’s hard and success is not
assured. Harold’s story ends strangely (but I’m not telling how). Mine may,
too. Not all my poems will be good, in fact maybe most of them won’t. No
matter. It’s definitely little by little, advancing everyday. If Harold kept
on, so can I.
--Our bodies get in the way. Of
course. Harold isn’t prepared for the blisters, the muscle aches, and the
fatigue as he starts out. It gets better as he progresses, but he stays old to
the very end. Sometimes fatigue and various aches and pains make me less than
productive and I’m tempted to give up and just be retired—read novels, take
naps, etc., etc. The challenges are real.
--Remembering is one of the tasks
of old age. Somehow the walking helps Harold bring up the difficult things of
the past and slowly begin to understand and face them. In a way, he’s coming to
know himself. An important task for all of us.
--Harold accumulates some stuff
along the way, stuff he considers necessary for survival. But at one point he
realizes he’s carrying too much. So he gets rid of most of it and decides to
let the needs of each day be met however that may be. He feels free again and
picks up his pace. Yes to that. An ongoing process, but worth the trouble.
--This whole adventure is counter
to the introverted mousey person he had been all his life. Yet the people he
meets along the way begin to change him. He slowly comes out of isolation and
finds community. It surprises and changes him. I need to remember that,
especially as I enter different levels of care in the future. I see the
temptation to isolation as fairly common. Being in life-giving community sometimes
requires an effort.
--As Harold interacts with a
variety of people, mainly by listening to their stories, he discovers that
there are no boring ordinary people. What people carry inside—their past, their
pain, their secret joys—makes each one a mysterious package to be opened. “Harold
thought of the people he had already met and passed. Their stories had
surprised and moved him, and none had left him untouched. Already the world had
more people in it for whom he cared.” Remember that, Nancy. Here in this
retirement community, there are no ordinary people; listen to the stories.
Here is one of my favorite
passages:
… Harold walked with these
strangers and listened. He judged no one, although as the days wore on, he
couldn’t remember if the tax inspector wore no shoes or had a parrot on his
shoulder. It no longer mattered. He had learned that it was the smallness of
people that filled him with wonder and tenderness, and the loneliness of that
too. The world was made up of people putting one foot in front of the other;
and a life might appear ordinary simply because the person living it had been
doing so for a long time. Harold could no longer pass a stranger without
acknowledging the truth that everyone was the same, and also unique; and that
this was the dilemma of being human.
He walked so
surely it was as if all his life he had been waiting to get up from his chair.
--Harold finds that learning and
discovering have no age limits. Once he stops looking down and feeling the pain
of walking, he begins to look around. He discovers the beauties of the English
countryside. “Once more, it surprised him how much was at his feet, if only
he had known to look.” No matter our age, the world still invites us to
explore and learn.
--Gradually, and without realizing
it, Harold becomes new, while still being true to the essential person he is.
Transformation happens. And not only of himself, but of his relationships. Back
home, Maurine, Harold’s wife, had been going through her own time of reflection
and change (but I won’t elaborate on how that turns out). We’re never too old
to experience change and renewal.
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of
Harold Fry does not aim to teach lessons or help us with self-improvement
as we grow older. It tells a story, and does it well. But the characters are
genuine, and so we implicitly learn as we enter into the lives of these
ordinary unique people.
Sometimes the adventures we go on
are through the pages of a good book.
Now I think I’ll go out and take a walk.
