Last night, Ed and I went to a Ukrainian Christmas party in Maple Ridge. Ed’s friend, Scott, and Scott’s wife, Colleen, hosts this party every year. We got back home around 11pm and Ed went to bed because he has paddling practice early the next day. I decided to watch the news on TV since I haven’t watched TV all week. I watched the news, then CSI was on so I watched that too. By the time CSI ended, Neo was sleeping on my stomach and I didn’t have the heart to push him off so I decided to just go to sleep on the sofa with my cat.
Ed gave me a kiss and left for paddling practice before 7am. I dosed off again but woke up to a weird noise, like wood being scratched. So I said “Neo” out loud, in a reprimanding tone, because I thought it was my cat scratching on something. I did think the sound was too loud for my cat to be making. Then I heard the noise again. So I sat up and listened. It came again and this time, I recognized it as scratching or tapping on my front door which was down the hall from the living room. I got up and took a peek to see who’s outside and I saw an old man standing there. He had tapped on my front door and he had also grabbed the knob and was pulling/pushing on the door. So I opened the door and asked who he was looking for. He said, “Nelly”. I said there was nobody by the name of Nelly in this house. He said Nelly was the owner of this place and that they were friends. So looked at him for a second and quickly decided that something was not right. He didn’t have a jacket on and he looked like he was in his 80’s. And he was holding on to the railing - not because he wanted to but because he needed to. My options were racing through my head when he said he was really cold. And then there was only one option - invite him into the house, get him warmed up, and find out where he lives so I can get someone to take him home. I was going to take him into the living room but he had a hard time walking so I put a blanket around him and got a chair for him to sit on. I asked him where he lived and he started talking about a white house down the street and how they kicked him out and they still had his clothes and wouldn’t let him get it. I asked if I can call someone to come and get him. He said he has a niece but her phone number is at home. That’s when I decided to call the police so they can track down where this man came from. I asked for his name and he replied, “Peter Lepnick, L-E-P-N-I-C-K”.
So I went upstairs to call the police (time was 7:25am). I didn’t want to be in front of Peter while I told the police that there was an incoherent old man in my foyer wrapped in my blanket. After the conversation with police, I went downstairs to find Peter asleep on the chair, holding the blanket around him. I didn’t really know what to do so I stood there watching him sleep. When he slid sideways, I ran over to catch him and suggested he sit in the living room instead. He agreed. He held on to my arm as we made our way down the hallway and I led him to the loveseat. A few minutes later, I heard the doorbell. The police were here.
Two male officers came. I didn’t even ask for their names. They started talking to Peter and asking him all sorts of questions. What’s your name? Where do you live? What’s the address? What’s your birthday? Peter answered all their questions clearly. He kept on talking about his house and how they forced him out of his house. But sifting through his answers, I found out that Peter Lepnick was from Saskatchewan and was born on May 11, 1908. He “rode the rails” and moved west about 50 years ago. The white house he was talking about was on 44th Ave and that 7 years ago, he sold the house and moved to the nursing home down the street from our place. And Nelly, the woman he was looking for when I opened my front door, was someone who lived a few houses from his house on 44th Ave. I was impressed at how the officers questioned him and got the answers they needed to piece the story together. They made it feel like a normal conversation and not an interrogation. It made me really sad when Peter said he thought he was a goner as he was walking up and down the street because he was so cold and it started to rain. He must have been so scared. They were worried about how long Peter was out in the cold walking about. So they called the paramedics to get Peter checked out before driving him back to the nursing home. The paramedics came, took his blood pressure, and checked him over. They said he’s ok to go and they were going to drive him to the nursing home. Then they all left. That was around 8:20am.
I was glad that I let him inside and helped him out. I’m so glad I slept on the sofa! I’m certain that I wouldn’t have heard him if I were upstairs in the bedroom. I would like to think that if he didn’t come to my door, that anybody whose door he knocked on would have helped him out too. I just feel bad that in old age, we lose our coherence and our independence. I think of all the things I have that make me someone other people listen to, that make me a leader in one way or another - all that will be gone when I’m old and gray and my mind start to lose it. It was really sad to see this man,this 97 year old man, sitting in my living room and not remember how he got to my house. I know I don’t ever want to be that old.
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