They are The Senators.
Every morning they come together and take their accustomed places at the table. Sometimes they sit in momentary silence, enjoying their communion of caffeine, but then the conversation breaks out again, and for the next half hour they'll eagerly share opinions or memories, revelling in their simple togetherness.
In Wawota we call them "The Senators." Their habit of meeting each morning at the Village Inn has taken on the proportions of a town tradition; you can depend on their presence, as solid as the rock of Gibraltar, and equally as prominent. Sometimes you hear them even before you see them, with laughter announcing their attendance to the rest of the guests, or a friendly dig 小蓝视频 directed towards one of the serving staff, or each other.
They are seniors, retired or semi-retired, finding structure to the start of their day as they meet to discuss the world as they see it. Sometimes younger people will come in, oil workers or construction crews, as they glance over at the Senators you wonder, do they see in this group a foretaste of their own future? Or are they not quite sure of how to relate to this gathering?
For my first year in Wawota, I also watched them. They were a curiosity at first; exhibiting camaraderie I didn't see in the coffee shops in larger communities "back east." I'd glance at them, smile, and then get back to my work. Gradually a sense of familiarity crept in; I'd nod in recognition as I sat at my own table, say "goodbye" as they left before I did. Yet, there was still a self-imposed distance; I was a generation apart from most of their number.
Then the day came when an empty chair at their table seemed to beckon to me, calling a silent invitation. In a moment of inspired acceptance, I got up and asked if I could join them. Introducing myself as the son-in-law of a local farmer, my position in the community was established, and so began my membership in the Senate, and truth be told I have learned to love these guys.
There's the WW2 army veteran, wounded in Italy, who went on to become a successful farmer. I wrote and published his biography and learned so much about farming from him. There's another veteran who maintained and flew Spitfires, as an aviation "nut" that really got my attention. There's the former mechanic who often helps the older ladies with their lawns and yards. There's the man who worked on the rails, more farmers, and even a former 小蓝视频.
They all have their own backgrounds, opinions and unique experiences of life; it often makes for lively discussion, and not a small amount of laughter. The variety of topics we cover is amazing. This week we've talked about locals who've owned their own aircraft; the coming election; the fighting in Libya; unrest in the middle east, and of course the weather. Sometimes multiple discussions will form, then I sit back (often at the head of the table) and luxuriate in the diversity of both subject and opinion.
Had you told me I'd "join" such a group when I was back in Ontario, I wouldn't have believed it, but their companionship is one of the highlights of living here on the prairies. There are lifetimes of wisdom around that table, and lessons to be learned for those with the ears to hear.
All too often, those of us who are younger fail to appreciate that seniors are a gift among us. Do we really think that they cannot relate to us? They have walked the road that we are now upon; they have witnessed trials and tribulations common to all humanity, often coming through in victory, with perspectives that the young need to learn. Humanity only advances when we learn the lessons of history, and each senior is a vital link to the hard-earned lessons of a previous generation.
Most prairie towns have their own version of "The Senators." If it is indeed true that a lesson will be repeated until it is learned, then maybe it's time to meet them, bask in their presence, and experience the growth that can come as a result.
