Treasure

Treasure (from Greek θησαυρός - thēsauros, meaning "treasure store") is a concentration of riches, often one which is considered lost or forgotten until being rediscovered. (Wikipedia)

Until recently, I did not realize what a treasure was living just down the street from us.                                                                                                                                                          

Bruce, Lewis, Stewart, Evelyn, and Arthur Woolner

Lewis Benjamin Woolner was born on November 17, 1913, the fifth of eight children (four girls and four boys) of Benjamin and Ella Woolner. He began his life on a potato farm in North Rustico, Prince Edward Island, Canada. If you know me, you know how much I love Prince Edward Island. After dreaming and planning for ten years, R.J. and I finally took a trip there in the summer of 2013, on the occasion of our 30 ^th anniversary. It was beyond our expectations. (I cried as we crossed the bridge to head for home.) And just so you know, the sunrise picture in the letterhead of my newly redesigned blog is the North Rustico harbor. This man grew up RIGHT in the area where we stayed. It's that PEI connection that brought Dr. Woolner into my life. I've only chatted with him two times for a total of maybe three hours, but I can safely say that this man totally has me wrapped around his little finger. I am absolutely captivated by him and can't wait to spend more time with him.

Of course, having lived for 101 years, 5 months, and 16 days, Dr. Woolner has quite a life-story. Just think how much the world had changed in his lifetime! His dad owned the first truck on PEI, making deliveries of goods from Charlottetown to the two stores in North Rustico, thirty miles away; this job was in addition to his full-time job as a potato farmer. He would make those deliveries every weekday, but not on Saturday or Sunday. The world was changing, and Benjamin Woolner was ready to embrace that change. According to Dr. Woolner, “It was illegal to drive an automobile in PEI in 1908. It was punishable by a $500 fine or six months in prison. Why? The women were afraid of them – these ‘awful, unnatural things.’ It turned from a non-automobile era to the day when you could buy a car from Eaton’s catalog. It really turned the whole country upside down, because it was a horse and buggy era that I grew up in. It was a great transition.” (This memory had been written down for the occasion of Dr. Woolner’s 100 ^th birthday celebration. He read that text to me several times and thoroughly enjoyed that memory each time he read it.)

The first truck on PEI

Another of Benjamin Woolner's delivery trucks

Dr. Woolner shared with me that on PEI (and I am sure in many other places in rural Canada and United States), it was common practice for students to be dismissed from school for two weeks at planting time and another two weeks at harvest time, so that they could help out with farm work. He told me it was hard work, planting and harvesting potatoes, but the kids were young and strong and didn't think anything of it. He also told me about school lunches. “Yes, my lunch was usually bread and molasses. Now, a farm has lots of milk, but kids had to go to school. We would put our milk in a bottle, but how would we keep it from spoiling? The school had a brook close by. We put our milk in a bottle with a cork in it, and then kept it cool in the brook. We would tie a string around the neck of the bottle.”

Young Lewis grew up. He told me about the day he came to an important decision in his life. “I can see that field in front of our house. You would take a field of grass and plow it. I started the day knowing I had to plow a long field. It was October. It was icy cold. I was plowing down the whole length of that field.  I remember very clearly thinking that I was NOT going to be a farmer. It was too cold, too hard….It was ridiculous.” Lewis attended Prince of Wales College in Charlottetown. It wasn’t a particularly easy journey. After his first year of college, he had to take a couple of years off in order to earn enough money to continue. He taught in a one-room schoolhouse in Mayfield, PEI, to raise the funds he needed. He persevered and eventually went on to get his medical degree at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. He married Laura Stanley on May 5, 1945, and ended up here in Rochester, working as a physician for many years in the Mayo system, after making a stop here while on his honeymoon. He and Laura had five children: Elizabeth Anne (“Anne”), Nancy Isobel, Lewis Allen, David Bruce, and Stanley Arthur. He worked hard as a surgical pathologist for many years, until he retired in 1982. (For more details, read this article in the Archives of Pathology.) 

Walking the Bridge at its grand opening

His daughter Anne lives with him now, tending to him and lovingly helping him remember the past. She would get him started on different stories, and he'd share the details with me. He struggled at times with those details and lamented, “Certain things you shouldn't be able to forget.”  He told me about the opening of the Confederation Bridge to Prince Edward Island. “The first day…the first day that bridge opened - it's a nine-mile bridge - the whole bridge was packed with walking people. I was there. My wife and I were there. We walked across that bridge. You couldn't have fit one more person on that bridge. We were packed together….We were always taking pictures. I should have pictures. Anne, why in the world don't I have pictures?”

 I took this picture of the bridge during our trip to PEI.

All the time we talked, he held my hand – except when he needed both hands for describing something. His grip was strong.  He patted and stroked my hand and fiddled with my ring. I fell for him completely. I was on the edge of my seat, enjoying his stories even when he (occasionally) repeated them for the third or fourth time. Each word was an echo from the past, a cherished memory of days and people long gone from this earth.

After we had visited for just over an hour, the daily newspaper (Rochester Post Bulletin) arrived. My friend opened it and started reading. As he looked through the paper, he recited a funny little verse for me a few times:

“I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Open the paper, and read the Obits.
If I'm not there, I know I'm not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed!” (Pete Seeger, "Get Up and Go")

After a few minutes of reading, he started cutting something out of the paper. I asked, “Did you find something?”

“Crossword puzzle. Every day, I do the crossword puzzle. I try to. Anne looks things up for me.” I need more of that kind of mental discipline in my life.

Talking of things more current than we had been to that point in our conversation, I mentioned how beautiful his backyard was. He pointed out the three, long, low retaining walls that stair-stepped his yard.  “Do you see those walls? The first one was built by a professional. The next two were built by an expert – me.” You see why I’m so smitten with him.

It was time for me to head home, although I took my time with a lengthy Minnesota goodbye. Anne sent me home with pictures and other memorabilia. I’ll be back.

Growing old is hard. It can be lonely, scary, painful, confusing and so much more. It can challenge your long-held beliefs. But…life is precious. I couldn't feel this more strongly. I want you to know that no matter your age, no matter your health, no matter your abilities – you are a treasure. You possess undiscovered riches. What if you can't get up and walk around the room anymore? It doesn't matter. Let someone have the privilege of walking alongside you or pushing your wheelchair. What if you tend to repeat the same stories time and time again? It doesn't matter. Let someone share those stories with you, write them down, and give them the honor the deserve. What if your health is fading? IT DOESN'T MATTER.  Let someone visit you and comfort you. You have a purpose, and you can still bless others. Hold a hand. Share your stories - and when you can't do that anymore, share a hug. Live your life, just as it is, to the fullest.

And my friends, if you "young" people out there have the opportunity to hold a hand or listen to a story, do it. Be courageous. Go on a search for those who need you today. Be a genuine, map-toting, “x-marks-the-spot” treasure hunter. The lost or forgotten riches that you discover will expand your world and renew your hope in the future. I know you can do it, and I wish you joy in the journey.