TRIGGER WARNING: This blog contains ageism.
I was 40ish, he was 90ish, and for the life of me I could not understand what the old man was doing.
It was not totally out of the ordinary for men to do strange things at the nursing home where I was chaplain. One man got out on the roof from the second floor, threatening to jump to his freedom. A nurse crawled out, at great risk to herself, and talked him back in. Another wanted to marry a female resident, much to the consternation of both families. There was no wedding, but the romance continued.
What’s the point?
So, the 90ish-year-old man who gave me pause was quite innocent compared to all this. His wife of over 60 years said he was somewhat boring. She was 19 when they married, he 29. They had one son. It was during the Depression, and he had a good job. He was a schoolteacher all his working life. She confided to me as we planned his funeral, “I don’t think I ever loved him.” I found that so sad.
Photo by Jace & Afsoon on Unsplash
When I would pass the old man’s room he was often bent over a record player, listening to books on vinyl from The Library of Congress, which sends these to the blind and infirmed. I remember he liked listening to history books.
“Why?” I asked myself. “What’s the point?” (Yes, horrible ageist thoughts.) His productive working life had long since passed. He was not part of a book club. He would be dead in months or, at most, the next two years. Why was he doing this?
The future of books on vinyl
Fast forward to me at 70ish – 77, to be exact. I started listening to books on Audible or those I can download for free from our public library. A couple times a year I visit my kids and grands in D.C. All that driving time has help me “read” twelve books already this year.
Some of these books are professionally oriented to my work, like Death Is But a Dream, by Dr. Christopher Kerr and @hospicenursepenny’s Influencing Death (I actually read the paperback version so I could write this book review). I suppose there is still a purpose for some of my reading.
Most of my reading falls in the pleasure category, which includes some of my favorite authors: Recollections of My Non-Existence by Rebecca Solnit and Unsolaced: Along the Way to All That Is by Gretel Ehrlich. Then some “freebies” from the library: My Southern Journey: True Stories from the Heart of the South by Rick Bragg and a classic, Travels with Charley: In Search of America by John Steinback.
So, what is the difference between me and the old man? I am able-bodied, he was not. I can tell others about what I am reading, he kept it inside because no one seemed to care. But now I can see we’re more similar than 40ish-year-old me would like to admit.
Decades later, that old man is showing me things that are so fascinating about our human existence. We don’t need a purpose or reason to seek intellectual stimulation. For better or worse, nowadays we often to turn to social media or television to satisfy this hunger. He turned to books.
I am the old man at the record player
Photo by Alex Boyd on Unsplash
The technology has changed. There are no more record players. I listen to my books transmitted from my phone directly into my brain through a surgically implanted cochlear hearing device. At 77, I am still curious about the world and my place in it. I hope this never ends.
My ageism toward the old man bent over the record player still nags at me. I wish I had been kinder to him. I wish I had made the effort to engage him in conversation about what he was “reading.” His hearing loss made dialogue difficult. He was just curious about the world. He wanted to feed his mind.
Now, I am the old man at the record player… and I like books on history, too.
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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving People and Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).
Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube
Penny Hawkins Smith, RN, educates and entertains (yes, entertains) her followers with short videos (okay, “reels”) based on her experience as a hospice nurse. She now has brought her earthy take on death, dying, and hospice to written form in her book, 
This outlook did not come easy for her. This book is, in part, a memoir about how a troubled young mother survived her own addictions and reckless living. Her life story is woven into the fabric of a book to help people have a better death and, she hopes, have a better life.
Questions and comments from Smith’s social media followers appear in Influencing Death, allowing segues to practical end-of-life advice. Here are just a few nuggets of Penny’s wisdom found in these pages:
In September, after my cancer diagnosis, my sister had traveled from Colorado to see me in Mississippi. Her visit came to mind as I read 
Lindsay was not the first person to see signs of the Lord’s imminent return in current events. In the 1840’s, William Miller set several dates for the end, and when the final date passed, many of his thousands of followers lost interest. However, some of them formed a new denomination, the Seventh Day Adventists.
Janice told me I gave her another meaningful gift before she left for the Peace Corps — a pendant necklace with a dove as if descending — the Holy Spirit if you will. She said she wore it constantly her whole three years in Thailand. Just before she left to come home, she lost it but replaced it after she was stateside.
Nothing to Fear: Demystifying Death to Live More by Julie McFadden, RN, is the latest in a long line of books showing the way to a more peaceful and more meaningful dying experience. Why another death and dying book? Why not? Sitting at #8 on the New York Times “Advice” best-seller list, Nothing to Fear is full of advice about navigating the last six months of life under hospice care.
Throughout Nothing to Fear we see nurse Julie addressing spiritual concerns of her patients and their families. She devotes a whole chapter, “Deathbed Phenomena,” to stories about patients having visions of long dead relatives. Here’s her understanding of these experiences returning to her theme of the metaphor of birth:
As the men gather each week, we hand everyone a name badge. Instead of “Hello, My Name is Hank,” each one says simply, “God’s Child.” We all wear one. Incarcerated and free.
My wife and I were signing papers in the VW sales office when we noticed a long line of people holding propane tanks across the street. My wife commented, “Look at all the people getting ready to grill on Labor Day.” The salesman responded, “Are you crazy? They’re getting ready for the hurricane.”
“When I’m dead, I’m dead.… and I just sail off into nothingness, and that brings me a lot of comfort. That doesn’t bring everyone comfort but it brings me comfort.” —Caitlin Doughty, author of 
