The gentleman in the photograph is named Tony. He and his wife were sitting near me in Giddings Plaza. She was sitting on a park bench, he next to her in a chair. After some time, his wife stood up and very slowly walked away.
Tony looked over at me and started a conversation with are you Italian? He had an accent. I answered yes, my grandparents came from Sicily. He brightened up and said he came from Sicily. He introduced himself and we had a pleasant conversation about a few topics. He said his wife went to get the car. They are married for fifty years.
Tony is 85 years old. He came here as a boy. He worked for 30 years at Hines Veterans Hospital. He measured, fitted, and made prosthetic limbs for veterans. He told me he bought apartment buildings, which his son manages for him.
Tony was proud of his accomplishments. He said he has his health, money, income from his pension and rents, and a home in the suburbs. “I am happy, my wife is happy, my son is happy.”
Then Tony told me a truth most of us never consider. He said the only thing he did not have was time. Tony told me time, his life, went by too fast and none of us have enough time.
We chatted for several minutes until he saw his wife pull up in the car. Tony stood up slow and careful. He talked to some women unlocking their bikes. Then, Tony walked slower than his wife to the car.
Tony was not bragging about his accomplishments or wealth. He was proud. Proud of what he accomplished during a long life. Proud, like other immigrants who worked, invested, and had what they considered wealth. Proud that he loved his family.
Tony brought back memories of older Italians and Sicilians I met as a boy. Some were elderly friends of my dad’s parents. Others came here after WWII to escape the ravages of that war. They told similar tales. They worked, raised their families, owned homes, businesses, or buildings.
During the late 1960s through the mid-1970s, many of these people retired. They went back to Italy or Sicily. They could live an upper-middle-class life or even a wealthy life on their social security, pensions, and sale of assets. The cost of living in some parts of Italy was very low.
Tony told me he visited his hometown in Agrigento a few times. He wants to make another visit before time runs out. Maybe he will.
There is never enough time for our hopes and dreams. We work, we raise families, we waste time on unimportant things. As we age, time starts running out. We get closer to a visit with the Grim Reaper.
Tony knows this. Most of us never consider that life is time and time is all we have. Live, love, laugh, and eat the sandwich before the lights go out for good.