WHAT DO YOU HOPE FOR?

“What do you hope for Murray?” I asked
“I hope to have sex again,” he said. Murray was seventy-five.
“What do you hope for, Olga?” I asked.
“I hope they won’t bring me tuna sandwiches again,” she said. “I am allergic to tuna.” Olga was eighty-nine.
“What do you hope for, Doug?” I asked.
“I hope for complete nuclear disarmament,” said Doug. Doug was seventy-eight.
“What do you hope for, Vera?” I asked.
“I don’t hope,” said Vera. “I just take care of my husband.” Vera was eighty-four.
“What do you hope for, Robert,” I asked.
“I hope people will enjoy reading my poetry,” said Robert. Robert was ninety-three.
“What do you hope for, Jenny?” I asked.
“I hope to die soon,” said Jenny. Jenny was seventy-one.
“What do you hope for, Ruth?” I asked.
“I hope they have chocolate for dessert,” said Ruth. Ruth was eighty-seven.

“What do you hope for, Granny?” I asked.
But wait a minute. Let’s tell the truth here. I didn’t ask that. Granny died ten years before I learned to ask old people what they hope for. And that MIGHT BE THE REASON why, on the night after the fair, Granny called me to say “I waited all day for somebody to come and take me to the fair, but nobody came.”

And I learned to ask people what they hope for, even when they are old.