The Pointy End of the Stick …

Something interesting happens as one grows older …  the day comes when you look around and all the adults are gone … parents, teachers, our earliest workmates, beloved aunts, and trusted uncles.  

It’s an odd feeling, the first time that you feel the need to run some idea past a wizened olderster … and you discover that there are none! 

This week, while looking through my hometown newspaper, I saw an obituary for Eula Allison, age 99.  As a kid, perhaps ten years old, Eula existed on the periphery of my awareness.  She was thirty then, an adult, and I knew “of Eula,” rather than knowing her personally.  Her Son Tommy was my age, and during my childhood, I would occasionally see Tommy, or hear a bit of news from the Allison household. In those days, Eula was an adult and, most certainly, existed only on the edge of my radar.

My cousin, Nancy, maintained contact with Eula so, reports from Nancy have managed to keep her in my thoughts throughout adulthood … again however, peripherally.  Eula remained in her family home in a community named Greenville, a wide spot on a Pennsylvania roadside, far too small to have its own post office.  Her obituary states that she’d been a member of the Greenville Church of the Brethren for more than 80 years. She and Cousin Nancy shared Greenville memories that I am certain no one else remembered. And, in speaking with Nancy, I have been the occasional “secondary” recipient of that very old news.

Then, I see her obituary … and I realized something.  Eula Allison was, very likely, the very last adult to remain from my childhood … even if she was present only peripherally.

Perhaps I have reached that point in life, where there are exactly zero adults to turn to …