On life's road, lesson taken
Harold Segal started using a walker 11 years ago, when he was 80, and he kept driving because, well, because he could. He figured if he could chase Nazis across North Africa, he could do errands around Framingham.
What was left of the Pacific Fleet was still smoldering in Pearl Harbor when Harold Segal stood with young men - kids, really - who went to a building on Columbus Avenue to enlist.
His eyesight wasn’t good. In fact, he failed his first exam. And then he came back a few days later and it was a different doctor, and the different doctor didn’t notice that he stood to the side and memorized a few lines of the eye chart.
He was in an Army unit that chased Rommel across Africa. Then he went to Sicily and the Italian mainland. He was an officer and a good enough driver to drive from Rome to Aversa guarding a condemned German general who had presided over the execution of American POWs.
When they got to Aversa, the German general saluted him and he saluted back. And then they tied the German general to a pole and shot him.
When Harold Segal got back from the war, he vowed to never drive a German or Japanese car. He kept that vow until 2006, when he traded in his Buick Electra for a
“I was 88, my eyesight was corrected with proper glasses, my reflexes were good, and I had a good driving record,’’ he said.
“Then I noticed little things. Moving my right foot from the accelerator to the brake was not as clean as it was. I was hitting a part of the gas pedal at the same time. I made a conscious effort to keep a greater distance between my car and the one in front of me. That worked fine for a while.’’
When he developed glaucoma in his left eye, he drove only in daylight.
Right before Christmas, he backed out of parking spot at the
“I felt bad for the trouble I caused the fellow,’’ he said.
And that was it.
“I put the horse in the barn, put my six shooters away, and walked home,’’ Harold Segal said. “It wasn’t easy. I’ve been independent since I got out of high school. My wife is 89 and incapacitated. It used to be easy to jump in the car and run out to get a half gallon of milk. No more.
“We have a very devoted son and a loving daughter. We have a great neighbor and others who will put themselves out whenever I ask. But I don’t like to ask. I can use The Ride if I call a day ahead, and it’s only $2 each way.’’
He misses things, the long drives in the country with Miriam, his wife of 63 years, drinking in the azaleas in spring, the leaves in autumn.
“There’s ways to cope,’’ he said, “but dentures will never replace teeth.’’
He thinks elderly drivers should be tested.
“I am 91 years of age; I am not 91 years old. There’s a difference,’’ he said. “In 91 years, I’ve learned a few things, and one of the things I’ve learned is that emotional and intellectual maturity appears in people at different stages and ages in life. Some people never mature.’’
Yesterday was Harold Segal’s 91st birthday. We had lunch in a restaurant next to the Wal-Mart where he decided to give up a license that is still valid. He can still pass the Registry’s eye test, and he used those eyes to order a bowl of French onion soup.
After lunch, Harold Segal walked into his apartment building, and rode the elevator to the eighth floor, carrying with him the two things they can’t legislate on Beacon Hill: great wisdom and common sense.
Kevin Cullen is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at cullen@globe.com . 