Photo taken by Grace Ellrodt with subject’s consent.
certain kind of talker
stories from Maine
A suspender-clad man settles into an armchair in such a way that I can tell he has settled into it easily for at least a decade.
At 88 years old, he does so with a certain elegance and comfort. He begins to rock in it. (That’s the squeaking you can hear. So imagine him, rocking back and forth as we talk.)
We begin by talking about his past. He shares his story of growing up as the 10th child in wartime:
Telling of meeting his wife and building a life together, amid a draft and the farming-based economy of the time and place:
His total dedication to farming and then real estate, and his wife’s desire for a present partner, strained their relationship long before she died, and he understood this. Nonetheless, he lost trust in her, so much so that he needed a mental health intervention.
Mental health professionals provided limited support, given he had few other friendships. His wife was his touchstone. He reflects:
Our conversation then pivots to the present. He lives alone now since his wife passed away three years ago. This was a heart-wrenching loss.
He explains how his wife once kept him connected to friendships, and that she was more social than he. So, that he became lonely after her passing was foreseeable. And perhaps preventable.
Hear his complicated reflections on their partnership after her passing. His resulting hesitancy and struggle to start a new relationship leaves him without a partner to anchor many friendships:
To collect himself mentally, he found an outlet outside of his lifelong rhythms. It truly served him in tough moments.
A few of his kids come by regularly, one even daily, to bring meals and conversation. Many of his grandchildren and extended family live right nearby. An central loneliness antidote is his proximity to family.
He also heads to the Settlement often, a local gas station and restaurant, where he is known to other regulars there. This meeting spot sustains his identity as a farmer, landowner, and man around town.
Periodically throughout our talk, he would mention the role his private personality plays in making him vulnerable to loneliness. After becoming comfortable with one another, he shared openly on this.
He explains how he struggles to talk about himself beyond his past and his current occupation. It’s just who he is.
These observations about what kinds of social interaction is comfortable got me thinking about how other men of his upbringing might relate to him.
In addition to the committed support of family, his continued work in real estate work is a loneliness antidote. It’s what what gets him talking, relating, and feeling connected. And a gas station/restaurant, where he gathers with other regulars. If not to talk, then to listen.
So at 88, he is still working, and sharing in the ways he knows, and listening.
This older adult passed away in early 2020 prior to seeing this project. With his prior informed consent, and the agreement of his family, his story is still shared here. I am grateful for this.