I have often thought about how roles are prone to
metamorphose over time.
Teachers teach children. Children grow up. Adult child and
teacher reconnects. Teacher and adult child are suddenly peers, and become
friends.
Supervisors supervise subordinates. Subordinates moves out
of state. Supervisor retires. Supervisor discovers former subordinate on social
media. The two establish a new and different relationship.
(And one I can relate to)…
Counselor counsels couple. Counseling process concludes.
Counselor enlists former client’s assistance with support group. Counselor and
former clients develop bond. Former client “adopts” counselor as a spiritual
father. Counselor reciprocates, and “adopts” former client as his spiritual
daughter. Counselor retires. Former
clients enlist former counselor to be a manager in their commercial business.
I was just watching the closing scenes from “Driving Miss
Daisy.” Of course, this was what brought the entire thing up in the first
place.
But if, per chance, you haven’t seen the movie…
Daisy Werthan, (Jessica Tandy,) an elderly Jewess, widow,
and former teacher lives in “a house on the hill” in the Atlanta suburbs. She
has been left “well off” since she and her husband owned a textile mill which
is now managed by her son, “Boolie.” (Dan Aykroyd). The plot thickens when the
self-sufficient, (rather ego-centric, heavily opinionated) Daisy backs her car
into a culvert behind the house.
It is obviously time to “make other arrangements.”
Along comes “Hoke.” (Morgan Freeman).
Boolie hires this “slightly younger than his mother” black
man to chauffeur her. And then “the sparks begin to fly.”
Not only is Miss Daisy unwilling to let Hoke drive her, instead
depending on the taxi service, but it seems nothing old Hoke can do is good
enough.
“Get out of that flower bed! If I wanted you to plant
tomatoes, I would have told you!”
(and)
“The maid doesn’t need your help cooking chicken! Stay out
of my kitchen!”
(and)
“Why are you meddling with my chandelier? I never heard of
dusting light bulbs! Get down from that ladder! You’ll break your neck!”
Ultimately, however, when one day the cab driver is unable
to respond, Miss Daisy allows Hoke to drive her to the supermarket. As a
result, the aged widow allows him to drive her to synagogue, and everywhere
else she chooses to go.
When Miss Daisy learns that Hoke is illiterate, the
“school teacher in her” comes out, and she encourages him to “learn his
letters.” As they are driving to the Werthan Textile Mill Christmas Party, the
old girl pipes up.
“Hoke. I have a present for you. Mind you, it’s not a
Christmas present. Jews have no business giving Christmas gifts.”
And I can still hear Hoke’s homespun reply.
“Well, Thank ya, Miss Daisy. I sure do appreciate this.”
And Hoke’s employer turned teacher continues.
“It’s a young reader’s guide. It will teach you to form
your letters, and begin to read words.”
And though the metamorphosis is slow, we see a gradual
“turning of the earth” as the movie nears its conclusion.
For on one particular day, Hoke unlocks the kitchen door,
and walks in, as he has done a few hundred times before, and walks into a scenario
for which he is not prepared. The conversation proceeds as follows:
“Hoke. Hoke. Is that you?”
(To which he responds in the affirmative).
“Hoke. I’m late. The children are going to wonder where I
am. Help me find my satchel.”
“Miss Daisy, you been done teaching for nigh on thirty
years. Those children are all grown up now!”
“It doesn’t matter. I need your help.”
“Miss Daisy, sit down. If you don’t pull yourself together,
they’ll come get you and take you out to that asylum.”
(The old lady complies).
“Now Miss Daisy, you just sit here a moment, and it will
all come back to you in a minute.”
Suddenly, the elderly widow takes Hoke’s hand, and what
transpires next surprises her white-haired chauffeur.
“Hoke. You’re my
… best friend.”
(Hoke attempts to shush her “goings-on”).
“Now, Miss Daisy…”
“No, Hoke. You are. You are.”
As the scene fades, we see Miss Daisy looking up lovingly
at Hoke, and her former subordinate dutifully holding her hand.
The final scene has Miss Daisy in a nursing home, and
Boolie and Hoke have stopped by for a visit. The calendar is apparently nearing
Thanksgiving, as the aging chauffeur looks down at the table, and says,
“Miss Daisy, you haven’t eaten your pumpkin pie. Let me
help you.”
(And help her, he does).
Hoke cuts a piece of pie, and gently places it in Miss
Daisy’s half-open mouth. She seems to relish it.
End of movie.
(But not really).
For you see, this scene, in its many manifestations, plays
out thousands upon thousands of times a day in multiplied venues throughout our
world.
So much like Miss Daisy and Hoke, I find myself in a
similar situation. I had to admit my mother to a nursing home two years ago.
Amazingly, she has had or still has over 40 diagnoses. (I never knew a person could suffer
that many maladies and still “move and breathe and have their being.” But I understand this is not all that unusual). I am my mother's Power of Attorney, and handle her finances and medical decisions.
Odd, how young parents bear and raise children. The
children grow up. Get married. Have their own children. While all the while
one’s parents age, and ultimately, for all intents and purposes, the roles
reverse. Your parents become your children. Their children, in essence, become
their parents.
A never-ending circle since the creation of the world. One
generation gives way to another. As it has been, so shall it ever be.
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