Colin and Heather Simcocks - from Alexandra

Colin and Heather Simcocks

Superman Col

     Across the street from us, live Col and Heather. They are an elderly couple in their nineties. I had an interesting misconception after first seeing them. I thought they could not do much at all in their apparent condition.

     One day, I saw Col in his wheelchair as he seemed struggling with putting out the rubbish-bin for the weekly service. I thought he would have some difficulty, went over, said “Hello” and offered to help. He let me help only to the point where I helped shut the gate.

     I thought it would be good to formally go over and introduce myself.  Later that day, I walked up to his house, knocked on the door, waited a while before it opened as Heather made her way to the door with her walker. Col was sitting on his couch with his walker nearby.  We had an introduction and chat. He offered me a cup of tea. I felt a bit bad, imposing on them but still was thrilled to see how they did it all. I was surprised they lived by themselves. They both use walkers and wheelchairs to get around.

     Heather had recently had a broken hip or thigh bone through a fall, recovered and they seemed fragile and delicate. It’s after seeing what they were capable of and what they did routinely at their age and condition that I started to actually envy them! All I can say now is this – at their age, I wish I could be like them!

     Col and Heather used to run their own farm nearby and after handing it over to their children, moved into Alex to spend their last days. They maintain a neat, organised, orderly home, a lovely, ordered garden full of vegetables, fruits and flowers that require heaps of effort. Col has a ride-on mower and maintains a spotless yard and nature strip - mine is a shame compared to his!! 

     The next day, I saw a car outside, with Heather being helped in. A little later, I saw Col moving towards the car. I reckoned it would be their son or daughter’s car driving them out, though I did not see anyone else. I was busy in my yard and moved on. In a few minutes, I saw the car driving past and the driver waved to me. He seemed almost as old as Col. Good heavens! it was Col!! Surely my eyes were mistaken, but it was Col!

     I have not seen many people in their thirties that would have the energy to do what they do. I think the key is, though slow in movement, their constant passion, their persistent energy, attention to detail and constant activity makes them achieve more than most. They both have a keen mind, a compassionate outlook and a kind, sharing nature.

     Their living example of independence (even though we are all ultimately dependent), in doing things for others at this age, over and above what they do for themselves, inspires me every single day, right across from my house. Within their capabilities they are able to reach across to many people, share what they grow. Col saw a laser-meter I had bought to measure distances and immediately took notes to pass it on, to get one for his son who might like it! The oranges, grapefruits and flowers that grow in their garden are absolutely fresh, taste great and many find their way into the tummies of my family.

     Until very recently, Col and Heather drove out by themselves. That brings up the story of amazing grace - not the famous song, but something I witnessed.

 

Amazing Grace

     One day, Peter, an artist that you will meet, saw me walking around town, offered me a lift and dropped me off near my home.  We saw Col, across the street, near his gate. I think he was putting out his rubbish-bin again. We walked over to say G’day. I, the new comer in town introduced Col and Peter, both local veterans. I reckon they had seen each other in town occasionally and know common friends.

     It’s a beautiful thing to see, how a chat develops into something memorable from a simple ‘Hello’ or ‘G’day’. They talked and I listened mostly. As men often do, Col enquired about the van that Peter drives. They were soon comparing notes and Col said something about his own car. I was drifting off a bit, my attention wandering, when with a smile, in a matter-of-fact way, Col said, he was giving up his driving license. I reckon he must have had one for about eight decades.

     The previous day, Col had gone to the main street, to shop and his parking had not been perfect. A local policeman had come up to him, with the thoughtfulness, kindness and respect you see even in law-enforcement, had noted Col’s age and suggested that he might have to get a medical certificate to renew his license. While Col could still do it, it would have been more embarrassing for him than difficult and on his own judgment, decided to give up his driving license that day.

     I am not sure until I lived around here, that I could appreciate what a driving license really means in the life of a typical Australian man. In India, growing up, I believed owning a car itself was a luxury and I used to think if someone had to give up driving, it is not a big deal, just giving up some comfort.  Here, they learn to drive very early, it is almost more important than legs for walking - the freedom, the basic requirement for all to get around in this vast country, to earn a living, you need a driving license. You can pretty much do more if you can drive here and even if you cannot walk. At Col’s age, giving up driving is like giving up your legs.

     Here was this man, until yesterday still driving his own car and taking along his wife, choosing to give it up. It surely was the passing of another milestone, that we will all have to pass if we should live as long and active as Col. Hearing him speak about it with a calm, quiet acceptance, with a smile, brought a sudden realization and a tear to my eye. It is always moving to see such amazing grace!

Respect Your Elders – Cultural Differences

     My town of Alexandra has many residents older than I am. They are kind, helpful and giving. In trying to give back and be respectful to my elders, I have sometimes, with the best of intentions, probably caused some mixed feelings. I appreciate the tolerance and grace of the people around who accept me for what I am, as of this moment, as I try to bridge deep, longstanding cultural differences. Often it takes me a bit of time to see it and work it out. I realise, I am conditioned by the culture I grew up with in India. Our deep conditioning guides our first default response, it takes conscious thought and effort to choose and act in a different way to go along with the culture of our present surroundings. What do you do when you see an old person ‘struggle’ with something? Or a child struggle or suffer pain? My Indian conditioning immediately kicks in and tries to do it for them, to prevent the pain as an automatic reflex. My life experiences and ‘wisdom’ later in life suggests not jumping in straight away always, or to wait until asked. It would seem patronising or worse to take over and not let a person ‘struggle’. It is perhaps something they enjoy and value.

     I saw Col, my neighbour one day, stuck on his ride-on mower near his gate. It was a hot afternoon and his machine had broken down. It would not start up. Col needed his walker to get away and get back inside. I saw him ‘struggle’ and make it to the shade inside and rest his body on his couch, looking dehydrated. He had to call a local mechanic who he knew and could not come up straight away. The mower was too heavy to be put away or rolled away into the shade away from the gate until there was further help. Col took it all in stride and good cheer. Seeing Col’s condition immediately brought out the deep conditioning inside me, it occurred to me to see if I could do something so Col would not have to go through it again.

     If my father or elders in India heard about what I saw, their first likely question to me would have been – “Did you not help? Did you not offer to mow the lawn of that elder gentleman in his 90s? At his age he should not have to do it and if you were a son I could be proud of, you would mow his lawn every time you do your own.” If that thought had not occurred to me and I did not offer to do so, they would feel they had not raised me right.

     Now, I happened to be on the lookout for a new lawn mower just about then, since my old one was gone. It occurred to me to suggest to Col that I could buy his big mower off him, get it fixed up and he need never worry about mowing his lawn again, I could do it for him every time. My bigger yard could have used a ride-on mower and his lawn would be an easier, smaller task I could do with pleasure. I suggested it to Col and Heather. It was their kind and gracious declining the offer that set me thinking and it quickly hit me. Of course, I was being presumptuous. It could have been taken as a bit patronising, insulting and taking away something that is very meaningful to Col and his fiercely independent nature. We have moved on fine from that, I have learned. I realise that if this same situation had occurred in India, the outcome would likely have been different. We are all different behind the similarities and still similar behind all the differences. The respect for an elder is the same cherished value anywhere, but how we express it acceptably may vary.

     Other interesting cultural differences between my upbringing in India and the western way of life here:

-         It was a compliment to tell anyone they have put on weight – makes sense, when for a very long time people had very little to eat or struggle to feed the family most people were skinny. The one who fattened up would have to be doing well and you are conveying that you are happy to see them eat well (do well).

-         Tell or treat someone as if they are older to you or older than their age. Even a person a month older will sometimes assert their seniority since age is associated with respect and people defer to them.

-         Persist in asking people to eat more after they have said they have had enough, saying ,”no you have not had enough, have this bit more.” Then you thrust a little more onto their plate against their will.

-        Not to formally invite real close friends who you want to treat like family. They get offended if you invite them formally. If you have a wedding or some important family occasion, you invite the friend by telling them – “Hey, I am not inviting you, you are family, I expect you to be there with us and helping just like the rest of the family!”

Separation By Fate

     One day, Col called me on the phone. Heather had fallen down and needed to be helped up. She had had fall a few months ago and it was lucky she had not broken anything, though she had to go to the hospital. She had come back home after that. It was always a bit dicey, if she hurt herself she would most likely need to stay in the hospital or go where she needed more help and care to just get around. She would have to move into an aged-care home.

     Heather and Col had managed to be living together for around 65 years, taking care of each other. They have done to this day even as they themselves got around with walkers and needed help for more strenuous efforts. They both were aware that at any moment, any single incident - just one fall, could mean the end of that. They tried their best to not call for more help than I could provide as a neighbour. You could see it in their eyes, the thought of Heather having to go away from their house. But even in that condition, they were courteous, kind and collected in my presence.

     Then it happened again, one evening recently. Heather had fallen down. I went over and helped her on to her bed. She wanted to sleep and not worry any further, I suggested, concerned but naively, that they call for the ambulance or a doctor to check her over immediately. They said they would, if needed, but would wait to see if it is bad and that now she wanted to sleep. I left them.

     The next day, she was in pain and Heather had to see a doctor. She was given some medication, was on it for a few days, but it did not help much. The pain was too much. Even going through an X-ray machine is difficult for her in her frail condition and bent frame. She was finally moved to the hospital. She is not coming back. It is the passing of another stage in the life of Heather and Col. Col feels bad for not being able to take care of her sufficiently at home. He is still taking care of himself, the house, the garden and accomplishing so much, slowly hobbling around, but with a spirit of an iron man. It is just that the body is frail. He visits Heather at the hospital occasionally.

     As he was slowly walking up the hospital ramp leaning on his walker and straining a bit, he looked at me with a smile and said, “Kannan, this is what old age does to one. I suppose I should be thankful to have made it this far, but it’s terrible, I hope no one has to go through this.”

     I know what he means and I too wish it were different, that we all lived fit and strong until we are done, but then would we want or think it is time to go? What is the alternative really to living to a ripe old age and struggling with failing health and strength? Die younger? And would I or anyone want that?

     At his age, I would be happy to be able to do the things Col does today, but I have not lived his age. I suppose it varies with each of us. I am however moved and inspired by this couple – they have shown the graceful way to accept one of the hardest things in life – separation from a loved one by fate.

The 92 year Old Lawn Mower

How old is the mower?

     No, it is not the machine mowing the lawn I am talking about, it is the person. I am sure most people would not have had the honour or privilege of having their lawn mowed by a nonagenarian - one who can barely walk without a walker. I am sure none of us would seek such an honour. However, when it happens, one can only watch and feel some awe.

     It was last weekend. My kids had woken up late and had a lazy breakfast one after another, each wanting something different. I too had slept-in late and was busy around the kitchen and as the kids played and watched TV, I heard a lawn mower start up and as is often the case, it runs along and we tune ourselves out of it. This one seemed to be getting unusually loud, I thought it would go quieter in a while, but it kept on and it was getting difficult for my son to listen to the TV so he cranked the volume louder. I shouted to my daughter to pull down the blinds hoping that it would help just a little bit. It did not. We just continued – me in the kitchen and the kids in the living room. I was done in a bit and came to lie down on the couch in the living room. The mower noise was really loud and from the movement of the mower I could sense it being really close! I pulled the blinds up and looked to see my ninety-two year old neighbour Col on his ride-on mower on my lawn. He had driven over across the street and started to mow my lawn – which had shown signs of recent growth – thankfully winter slows the growth rate down, but we have good moisture and sunshine.

     I saw he had cut a fair bit on all the major areas and was already around the back of the house. I went out and he just waved to me and continued. When he stopped I asked him, “Why Col? You should not have and need not have!”

     He just smiled and said, “Aw, you helped me with my mower yesterday and I thought I would do it. I could do it today. But I cannot make a habit of it.”

     Of course, he will not make a habit of it and I’ll not allow him to do it. It’s the creed by which Col lives. He calls it ‘fair play’.  Thanks Col.

     I am simply moved by the rare gift and experience – to witness the heights that human spirit can scale.

The 92 year old lawn mower

Heather Labelled The Containers...

     Col invited me to afternoon tea one day. We had scones that his nephew had brought over. Good homemade stuff, frozen until ready to use. We warmed a few in the oven and had them with butter and jam alongside a cup of warm tea this cold winter afternoon. It had been frosty, bitingly cold and foggy this morning. Col had his fireplace going and his house was warm. He hobbled around slowly but was determined to be a good host. He himself cut the warm scones, applied the butter and jam, and made us a cup of tea, slowly and seemingly painfully with his arthritic fingers. He had purchased an electric can opener as it was getting too difficult with the manual ones. As we ate, we chatted about our lives.

     Col said that he had learned to cook more stuff recently since Heather passed away. Almost till the very end of her life, Heather was the one who had cooked their meals with variety and attention to detail. Col was capable of survival cooking and a few recipes, but Heather ruled the domain of the kitchen while he did all the work outside in the garden and inside the house, fixing things and keeping everything in good condition.

     Col mentioned that while many of his family came by and dropped off food for him to use, he was trying to use what he already had. There were things in lower shelves, that he has difficulty bending, reaching and getting up or straightening up again. He just needed to organise and arrange them conveniently.

     “Heather could not do very much in her last days,” he said, his eyes showing he was seeing with his mind’s eye, “She labelled the containers and bottles only recently. That was not how she kept things all these years when she ran the kitchen. She knew where everything was. I guess she felt she did not have much time left, she could not herself move and re-arrange it properly. She just managed to label them all so that I could know what was where and use it! She did it for ME!”

An expression of fond appreciation came over his face. We drank the tea, thanking Heather silently for one of her last acts of service. It still lives and helps Col.