Once, when we had a family gathering, some of my cousins and I gave ourselves the giggles doing impressions of a couple of our uncles. From our point of view the uncles were old. They seemed to enjoy sitting around and eating and as they sat around they offered commentary on a wide variety of topics. In our imitations, we began each of our sentences with the line, “I remember when . . . “ Of course we offered completely ridiculous scenarios in our imitations. “I remember when we had a pterodactyl as a pet.” “I remember when gas was so cheap that they paid you to fill up your tank.” “I remember when we were so poor that we didn’t have a lemon for our lemonade stand. We sold sugar water and there wasn’t that much sugar in the water, either.” We could go on and on with each new statement prompting a round of giggles from the cousins.

Time passed. The uncles grew olde and died. In 2021 at a family gathering a cousin and I were sitting on a couple of lawn chairs watching the others and we realized that we have become those old uncles. I have since tried to avoid too many “I remember when” statements when around younger members of our family. Being an elder is a joy in many regards, but I’m aware that my children watch my driving wondering when they’ll have to intervene to tell me it is time to quit. I still love to get down with the children and play, but sometimes when they are all splashing in the water, I’m only wading in to my knees. I still look forward to bike riding with my grandchildren, but am a bit relieved to have five levels of electric boost on my bike.

And yesterday I caught myself saying, “I remember when” and seriously meaning it. I’ve got to keep an eye on myself and listen to what I am saying. I do, however, remember when we replaced two garage doors on our home in Idaho for half of the amount I paid yesterday to have one garage door repaired.

The drama started Friday afternoon. A spring broke as I attempted to raise the garage door. The car was inside and the opener was unable to lift the door. I released the opener and the door returned to the closed position and was too heavy for me to lift without the assistance of the spring. I called a company that advertises emergency repairs and was told by their dispatcher that they could have someone to repair the door between 5 and 6 pm. Within minutes of calling the company, I received a call from the person scheduled to make repairs informing me that they had to change the schedule and could not come until the next morning. Since our pickup was not in the garage and we didn’t have anywhere to go I accepted the 10 am to noon appointment time.

Two men arrived at our house at 11:55 yesterday. They took a look at the door, had the correct parts on their truck and made the repair in less than an hour. They replaced a few other worn parts on the door, adjusted and inspected everything and gave me a receipt and a 5-year warranty on labor and parts. They even had a discount for not using a card to pay. I gladly accepted the discount and gave them a check. The check was electronically processed before they left my driveway. I remember when it took a couple of days for a check to process, but I didn’t say anything to anyone about it.

Both of the men spoke to me in English with slight accents, but communication was simple and clear. They explained everything before doing anything and were upfront about costs. They spoke another language between themselves, however. I am not good with other languages, but I could tell that they were speaking a middle-eastern language. However, I didn’t know which one. As we were settling up, I asked what language they spoke. It turned out they were speaking Hebrew. I studied Biblical Hebrew for a couple of years, but the emphasis in that instruction is on reading and translation, not on speaking. I was a bit surprised to learn that they were speaking Hebrew. I had assumed that it might be Arabic or Farsi or Turkish.

Of course their lives are far more interesting and complex than I could discern from a few minutes of casual conversation, but I did learn that one of the men came to the United States at the age of 20 after completing his military service in Israel. He met his wife while traveling in the US and she is from Seattle. He has been living and working in the US for nine years now and is 29 years old. He still has lots of family in Israel and goes to visit regularly. He just got back form a visit. He described Israel as a very beautiful place and encouraged me to visit. He also said, “It is so peaceful there.”

I was really struck by what he said because I had just read about the Hezbollah strike on the soccer field that killed 12 children. I didn’t want to get into politics with him. I doubt if a 29-year-old tradesman in the US has any authority for setting governmental policy and directing the course of the war with Hezbollah. And I didn’t want to offend the men who had come and done needed repair work on our home. I simply said, “I hope your families are safe from the terrorists and hostage-takers.” It was genuine. I do hope they are safe.

I wished that there would have been more time for me to ask questions and learn. I suspect that the reason the after hours appointment on Friday had to be rescheduled was that they were celebrating Sabbath with family, but I do not know if they are religious and observe traditional practices. I would have loved to hear their opinion on the death and destruction in Gaza as I know that Israeli citizens have many different perspectives on their country’s leadership and policies.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to meet and have a brief conversation with a couple of men from Israel. Now, I’ll have to be sure not to start any stories about the experience with the words, “I remember when . . .”