As I leave my neighborhood, I approach the four way stop at the top of the hill. On the corner across from me is an elderly gentleman with trimmed gray hair wearing a bright red shirt that peaks out from beneath his jacket. The wind is blowing around him, but the sun is bright, calling to the flowers starting to bloom nearby as hints of spring emerge.

This gentleman is perched comfortably on a chair that doubles as his walker. He has selected the busiest corner of the neighborhood to park himself. His eyes flicker and his smile broadens when he sees me. I dubbed him Frank, as he looked a bit like my uncle. It is not unusual to see people mingling on that same corner. For years dads would stand unshaven, holding coffee cups, chatting and laughing after seeing their children board the bus at dawn. But for months that corner was empty. The school bus no longer stopped there this time last year when the coronavirus arrived causing East Cobb Schools to shut down.

School bells were silenced, after school activities were canceled and curtains for recitals never opened. Atlanta’s business giants such as Coca Cola and Home Depot closed their corporate doors, sending employees home with computers in hand to begin what was expected to be a 2-week-work-from-home order.

For our family it started on a Monday while watching the Atlanta Hawks play on TV. Our son, a high school senior, worked for the Atlanta Hawks as a ball boy. We would try to catch a glimpse of our son rebounding the ball to players. But shockingly, a text arrived announcing the abrupt end to the season due to COVID19. I myself had not ventured out even to the grocery store for weeks. But as weeks turned to months, the stay at home normal arrived.

But now, perched on this corner, was this friendly gentleman. As I turned right, I waved, a bit concerned that perhaps he was lost. Then I thought maybe he was just waiting extra early for a grandchild to come off the bus that was now shuttling masked students to and from school. After deciding he was most definitely not an Alzheimer patient on the loose, I drove on, focusing on my own plans for the day.

A few days later, the spring sun shone brightly after days of rain and he was there again on the corner. I waited behind cars for my turn to pull up to the stop sign and I marveled at how his face would light up as cars passed, horns honked and neighbors waved. Smiling to myself, my eyes welled with tears, realizing he needed what we all missed during these pandemic times-connection. We need each other. Sharing smiles, hellos or casual conversations makes a day so much fuller, rewarding and glorious.

This gentleman was clever. Assuming he needed to be home for his health and safety, possibly no longer able to drive, he became determined to find people. He used his walker to venture to the end of his quiet street to find a busier corner. I turned left and he tipped his baseball hat to me as I waved back.

His presence reminded me that, although the pandemic had brought life to halt a year ago, people got creative just as this gentleman had done. We looked at our circumstances, we shifted, we adjusted, we overcame. In the Indian Hills neighborhood alone, the loud squeak of school buses circling our homes may have ceased, but the laughter of more kids playing outside increased. Families created unique family time. One neighbor had a theme for every night, dressing up and playing games. Other neighbors dusted off sewing machines, making masks that were in short supply for medical staff (and nonexistent for the rest of us).

While grocery store shelves grew empty, Indian Hills Country Club allocated food from their vendors to create an online curbside store. A neighbor arranged for a meat truck to park in their driveway to help fill the gap. Through neighborhood social media, people posted needs and others shared items. Puzzles and books were passed around while we shared Lysol and much-needed cleaners with our fearless front line workers taking care of those in hospitals.

As the shutdown was extended, yearly celebrations were canceled; birthday parties, weddings and graduations. Celebrating ‘corona style’, High Green Drive families lined the street to wave signs and clap for a passing golf cart carrying our very own 100^th birthday gal, Beth Jackson. More than 500 neighbors came outside to social distance and cheer on the car parade of high school seniors wearing caps and gowns. My son said that was the best day! We shifted, we were creative just like this gentleman.

My daily walk eventually coincided with this gentleman’s arrival at his corner spot. As he converted his walker to chair to take a seat, we introduced ourselves. I learned his name is Jack Parker, not Frank. He told me he is a New Yorker missing his home he proudly built all by himself. At 92 years old he has been living with his daughter. We chatted swapping stories of New York winters. I learned that years before he began steering his walker to this corner, he bravely served our country while driving a tank during the Korean War.

People bring him flowers, smile when they see him. He symbolizes to me hope that this year of pandemic life is drawing to an end. As the world hopefully rights itself, may we remember how much we missed daily connection with those we encounter outside our homes, how much we missed smiles hidden behind masks. May we remember Jack. I know he went looking for the gentle connection of a wave or smile, but he’s brought so much joy to those who see him.

originally printed in Smoke Signals-June 2021