“You live here?” the elderly man asked, walking towards me.
“Nope,” I replied, as I continued walking in the opposite direction towards my car. “Just visiting.”
“You visiting the old man in there?” he asked in a thick accent, pointing to the door I’d just come out of.
“Yup,” I said, still walking, definitely trying to get away at this point. “He’s my father.”
“Oh, your father!” he said, perking up. “How is he? I heard he was sick.”
“Yes, he was. But he’s getting much better now,” I said.
“You are Italian, yes? I’m from Croatia — very close to Italy,” he said, indicating we had something special in common.
“That’s great,” I said sincerely. I had transitioned from get-away to stay-and-be-nice mode.
“I used to live in a big house in Hackensack, but the kids went to college and moved out, so my wife and I moved here because we didn’t need all the room,” he said, wistfully.
I could tell he wasn’t happy.
“But you miss the house?” I asked.
“Well, we were friends with all our neighbors and somebody was always having people over to their backyards. It’s nice here, and quiet, but I miss that,” he said.
“Well, I guess you could always try to buy your old house back, or get something else close by,” I suggested, to which he didn’t offer a specific response.
From there, the conversation continued, with “Reno” telling me about the motel he owned/operated for tourists on a beach in Croatia and about how his son could have been set up on a date with Chelsea Clinton. He also told me how his mega-SUV had broken down, so he’d downsized that too.
“Smaller house and smaller car,” I joked.
“Yeah,” he replied, apologetically holding out his hands palms-up.
Through the whole time, he had a sad look in his eye, and was obviously eager for the conversation to continue, but I’d come to visit my Dad, only running out to my car so I could grab my mouse for him. I’d been talking to Reno for a good 10 minutes.
“Well, I gotta get back up to my Dad, Reno,” I said. “It was nice talking to you.”
“Please tell your father I’m praying for him,” he said.
“I sure will,” I said.
As I drove home later that day, I got to thinking about what I’ll call “Reno’s Instructive Tale of Mistaken Priorities.” First off, it is almost always a mistake to make making money (or saving it) the primary consideration in any decision. Reno made his big change because it made financial sense, but I don’t think the man was strapped for cash (he showed me his two cars — both obviously new, one a BMW). But with the kids out, the square footage allotment left to Reno and his wife was technically excessive for their needs, so he’d get something more appropriately sized. What Reno didn’t realize was that he’d sized his life perfectly; it consisted of the friendships he’s made among his neighbors and — though we complain about it — the work of maintaining a house that keep him busy.
“Oh god, I have to mow the lawn,” can sadly be replaced by accosting a stranger in a parking lot because you have nothing to do.
Reno’s life had been full of relaxed toil and friends — all of which his downsizing poured down the drain. In order to save money, he gave up something he should have been willing to pay a premium for. What he should have done was mentally written off his higher cost of living as a happiness tax.
Instead, Reno tills the tiny patch of earth in front his apartment, planting a flower or two instead of the huge garden he probably had at his house. He walks the parking lot looking for folks to chat with rather than easily chatting over one fence or another with his neighbors.
But there could be a happy ending to this story, and I hope Reno will remember that. What has been done can almost always be undone. When one only comes to realize what they’ve had after it’s gone, they should also realize they might be able to get it back. In short, try to understand yourself before making major decisions to either acquire or unburden, and if you misstep, try to get back to where you belong.
I hope Reno gets back to his big house and his big-old SUV, because he was too big for his little apartment and his reasonably sized cars. I’m sure he now knows that, because it only took me 10 well-spent minutes to figure it out.
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