Walter Cline

So what does someone say to you when they know they are about to die? What are the thoughts they have everyday when they know life is almost over? There is something so intriguing and humbling when hearing the story of a man who knows his time is up.

I moved into the tiny Michigan home when I was 2. Walter’s first memory of me is looking out his window across the street to see my mother trying to teach me how to do somersaults in the snow. I was layered in jackets that made me look twice my size, and I could barely put my arms down. She would do three somersaults then try to roll me over and I would just lie there. He introduced himself and quickly became my new friend. Both him and his wife Bernadine, were unable to conceive and took my brother and me in as their own grandchildren. Until this day, every time I would visit he would tell the story of when I was 4 and I ran to his house in the middle of the night scared of a nightmare- wearing only my underwear. He would gleam like a proud grandfather knowing I would run to him and Bern for comfort.
Throughout my life, he was there for everything. He watched as dad finally taught me how to successfully ride a bike, and gave me 5 dollars as a result. When I rescued pigeons (which was often), Walter would let me keep them in his yard until their wings healed. I would pound on the old piano in his basement and draw notes all over the keys. And every bloom, Bern would let me pick 3 of her beautiful roses to put in our kitchen. They say blood is thicker than water- I don’t believe that.
My last visit with Walter was this past December for Christmas. Bernadine has been gone for almost 5 years now, and Walter hasn’t been the same since. His stubbornness was still roaring though- he’s pushing 95 and just finally stopped mowing his own lawn.
A part of me knew this trip would be the last time I would be able to kiss this old man’s cheek. I sat on my couch in the living room and gazed out the window, past the snow and twinkly-lights to his cold, lonely house. With my journal and camera at hand, I put on my fathers snow boots and made the short trek to Walter’s house. I knocked twice and walked in as I always do to see those sweet eyes and crooked smile on the same leather chair. “My girl! Come in! Sit down! I saw that you’ve been in town for 2 days and you’re just now coming to see me? What have you been doing? Hey, are you leavin’ the boys alone? Are you still waiting until you’re married? I don’t know how you do that. You and your brother are all religious. I can’t believe Tony is a pastor! You have a boyfriend? Hey, you wanna marry an old man like me?” he said with a mischievous grin after I finally sit in Burn’s chair next to him. Walter has been asking me to marry him since I was ten. I used to get mad and go- “ Waalltterr Stooooppp!” He would get a kick out of my reaction and still do it to this day.
“Oh Walter.” I said looking at him thinking which question I should answer first. “How are you? What is new with you.” I said avoiding the usual intrusive questions. He would then go on for ten minutes telling me the same 3 stories of his nieces and nephews he tells every time I see him. He was so proud of them. Afterwards, I asked him if it would be all right for me to interview him and take a few pictures. He looked at me confused and said, “ Well alright. What do you want to know?” I thought, “ What do I want to know? You’ve been on this earth for 94 years! I want to know everything!” Realizing we probably don’t have the time for that, I started with the beginning. “Where were you born?” He began telling me about his hometown Scranton, PA. His father was a coal miner and they were as simple as it got. Not much to say there… Walter went on to be a simple man. When they moved to Michigan, he worked at Dodge for 45 cents an hour. He said that working 18-20 hours a week was great money back then! That’s a whole 9 bucks a week- if it’s a good week.

He married his love, Bernadine.They lived with his folks and a few years later at age 28, he joined the navy.

It was all so very basic… and I wanted to get to the nitty gritty. I have known this man my whole life, and I have never seen him shed a tear. I’ve never seen him express deep emotion. Walter was all jokes and laughs. So, for once, I started to ask the invasive questions.

“What is your fondest memory?” I said hoping to get some kind of deep thought. “The day I met Bern.” He said with the look of ‘next question, please.’ on his face. “Ok,” I replied, “what is your greatest accomplishment?” He didn’t hesitate a bit and said, “LIVING! I’m 94!” He laughed at himself for a good minute while I looked at him mildly frustrated but masking it with a grin. He noticed I was a little perturbed and kept on.“ Ok, ok. My greatest accomplishment? I was in the Navy for over 3 years. I fought in WWII.” He actually began to get serious with a long silent pause,

“ War is something you remember all the time.” He said looking down. It remained quiet in the room while I studied his face. I could see memories flashing in his head. They weren’t pleasant memories. I was right about to ask another question when he continued to go on about Hiroshima, Siban, and the Philipines. He talked about his buddy’s and travel. “ I had been gone for months, my family and Bern didn’t know where I was. You see, back then you’re family didn’t know anything. They didn’t know anything except what area you might be in. On Christmas eve of… yes, on Christmas Eve of ’45, we arrived in Long Beach, California.” He shuffled his hands again speaking slowly and cautiously as not to forget any detail. “It was 6 of us crowded in a small hotel room.” He grinned and laughed a little as he thought of all of them crowded in a tiny room. “Everyone was asleep. And, I got up. I grabbed my one quarter and went down to the lobby,” He paused, embracing the moment all over again, “ and I picked up the phone and dialed my home number. It rang. Then my mother answered the phone. She said hello. I said… Hello.” He began speak softer and with more intensity.” BERN! My… my mother started yelling. Bern! Bern!” Walter began to cry as he said his wife’s name over and over again. “Bernadine! Come to the phone.” We sat there in silence. He cried and thought of his wife, and I relived what I know to be his greatest accomplishment: Loving Bernadine.

It’s funny how as a 23-year-old woman who lives in Los Angeles, I am surrounded by work, work, and work-minded people. It’s the race to “succeed” and stay that way. But, sitting there watching a simple man cry over his dead wife at the age of 94, I realized that really- none of that matters. Nothing can fill the heart more than loving someone and being loved in return. I learned such a simple lesson from such a simple man.

After he spoke of their reunion at the train station he quickly realized his vulnerability and talked about his manly tattoo (of his wife’s name, of course).

“ I can’t say I was sober,” he looked at me with a huge grin and gleaming eyes while pointing to his tat, “ but I can’t say I was drunk!” He waited for me to get the joke then continued on, “I got it for six dollars and fifty cents!”

We reminisced over pictures then he asked me to go downstairs and get his old war rifle to give to Tony. “ I know your brother wants it.” He said, “What does a pastor want with a gun?” I just grinned and replied, “Maybe he wants to use it as a metaphor in one of his sermons?” Walter disapproving shooed me to fetch it downstairs. I went down to grab it, and I noticed the piano still had writing on the keys. When it was time to leave I hugged him with no regard to his fragile body, he didn’t seem to mind. I kissed him on the forehead and told him I loved him. “ I’ll marry you, Walter.” I said. “Oh honey, I’m no good for you now. I’m too old! Things don’t work they way they used to!” he said as he laughed at his cleverness once again.
Walter finally went to be with Bernadine yesterday. So if you want to know everything from a man with 94 years under his belt, the only thing- that’s everything- is Love.