It was the start of winter break only a few days prior to Christmas Eve, and I had some spare time on my hands. What better way to kill time and enjoy being outside, I thought, than a casual walk along the beach with my sister? We bundled up in our seasonal attire, attempting to cover any skin that would be exposed to the dry, frigid December air. The sun was shining, but the near-freezing temperature instantly turned my nose bright red. Daylight in New England is limited in the colder months, and the sun was already low in the sky; there would surely be a brilliant, warm-toned sunset within the hour. The drive to our favorite spot for this occasion consisted of a sing-along to our favorite holiday classics and a much-needed pit stop at a local café for a warm cup of peppermint hot cocoa. When we finally arrived at our destination, my sister and I took the last few sips of our comfort drinks before bracing ourselves for the chilling ocean breeze. Waves crashed along the shoreline and drowned out my thoughts as I strolled along the lightly weathered boardwalk. Growing up surrounded by the ocean on Cape Cod, I have always felt at ease when I am surrounded by the salty air and open water. This appreciation is shared by the locals, and it has created a tight-knit community of friendly and welcoming people where it is not uncommon for strangers to smile and say hello when they cross paths.
When I reached the end of the boardwalk, I paused for a moment to take in my surroundings. I looked over my shoulder to see an elderly man with perfectly white hair that stuck out from underneath an Army baseball hat. He stood lonely as he clicked the buttons on his outdated digital camera to capture the stunning scenery that lay on the horizon line. Having a grandfather who was in the Marines, my parents have always encouraged me from a young age to thank veterans for their service as a sign of respect. Thinking about the holiday season, I began to reminisce about fond memories with my Papa and stories that he would tell my sister and me during family gatherings. My emotions urged me to introduce myself to the soft-eyed man who stood beside me. I wished him a happy holiday and expressed my gratitude for his bravery while serving our country. He was caught off guard, but the smile on his face quickly spread from cheek to cheek. He was pleasantly surprised that a teenager like me would take notice of him and go out of the way to strike up a conversation in the way that I did.
Reaching out his hand, he told me that his name was Norman, but that many of his friends and family know him as Storm’n Norm’n. Curious about his nickname, I asked about how it came to be. Excitedly, he yanked his iPhone four out of his coat pocket to show me his impressive, up-to-date blog that he had created and turned into one of his favorite hobbies. The name he used to write under, to no surprise, was Storm’n Norm’n. I wasn’t expecting someone his age to be so technologically competent with such a device and all of its features. His profile was customized to his liking with one of his own pictures and a biography that described him and his accomplishments. His collection of posts dating back to 2012 made it clear that blogging was not something that he recently took an interest in; I was very impressed. Many of his posts were personal accounts from when he was stationed in different countries, and his words came to life at that moment as he spoke so passionately to me about his life experiences.
Time slipped away as I became so intrigued by the wisdom of this complete stranger, and, without noticing, the sun had slipped beneath the horizon. The warm hues stretched across the skyline as we walked down the boardwalk back to the shore, continuing with our conversation. Norman’s deep-set eyes lit up as he talked about his family, especially his grandchildren who were around the same age as me. Although he seemed to have a strong relationship with his kids and grandchildren, Norman didn’t seem to have much social interaction with people outside of his family. Many of his friends were getting to an age where they were having conversations about the end of lives and their wishes relating to the matter. On the other hand, Norman had been getting more involved on social media and staying active within the community after retiring to his Cape house. I started to think about what Norman was choosing to do in his free time and how our society is really good at segregating people by age. By taking up hobbies like blogging and photography, Norman was breaking the “norms” associated with his age group. He started to convey to me that it was a nice change of pace in conversation to talk to someone from a younger generation who didn’t make him feel as though his age made him slow or a burden to others. He thanked me for so willingly giving him my time, patience, and attention by actually listening to what he had to offer.
Since meeting Norman I have realized the importance of connecting more organically with people of all ages. This requires a sense of being open and available to another person as well as empathy and compassion. These types of connections help us not only to grow and learn more about ourselves but also to put ourselves in the shoes of others and see things that we may not have paid much attention to in the past. Although years have passed since my first encounter with Norman on that cold, December evening, I often think about the moments of conversation that we shared and how his words and actions encouraged me to reflect on how many of my younger peers miss opportunities like this that offer a new perspective, inspiration, and a greater appreciation for their own experiences. Before we parted ways, he showed his gratitude to me by handing me a simple token to hold onto: a silver coin. The coin had more worth to me than its face value. The color silver is supposed to mirror the soul and help us see ourselves as others see us. I viewed his small gesture as a token of intergenerational friendship that neither of us had expected.