story

The phone rang, and I was mildly annoyed that no one else was around to answer it, but in the end I think the call was for me. After I said, "Hello," the elderly male voice on the other end asked politely to speak to Jim. When I told him that he must have the wrong number, he told me that he was trying to get in touch with an old friend in Zionsville, and it had been a while since they had talked. He verified that he had dialed the correct number, and then he began to question me. He wanted to know if I lived in Zionsville, and how old I was.  I felt a bit nervous because I know that you should not talk to strangers, but he just did not seem to be a thief or a pedophile. He seemed nice and lonely. He told me about his children and his family with whom he was rarely able to have decent conversation anymore and his wife who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease a few years ago. After several minutes on the phone the man thanked me for talking to him and suggested that I might have been one of his "angels". "Angels?" I asked. He told me that there are a few angels that walk among us, and we never really know who they are. He explained that if you are sitting on a park bench and someone else sits beside you, you make the choice to talk to or ignore him or her. If you disregard the person, you just might miss talking to one of your angels. I thanked the man for sharing his stories, and we said good-bye. The conversation reminded me that sometimes I feel too busy to stop and talk to people, and there are many elderly people who have great stories to tell and no one to listen. I vowed to take the time to talk to older people. I think the man who called me just might have been my angel.