Reading and listening time: 7 minutes
Hello in There, Hello
You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder every day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello." John Prine
Songs have special ways of taking us back to a place or a time when we first heard them. A song’s message can trigger memories, too. When I hear John Prine’s “Hello in There” I’m reminded of how kindly my parents treated elderly family members and friends, and how they often would take me with them on visits to their homes, hospital rooms, or nursing homes.
Specifically, when I hear Prine’s song I think of Orville (“Orrie”) and Ada Pearl Ford who lived on a small farm just north of my childhood hometown, Clear Lake, Iowa. Orrie was forty years older than Dad. I’m not sure how or when they met, but the farming community was relatively small such that everyone knew one another. My parents rented the upstairs of the Ford’s farmhouse, and we lived with them for awhile after I was born in 1948.
Ada Pearl holding me, 1948
Orrie Ford
The main floor of the farmhouse had a spacious kitchen, dining room, bedroom, and living room. Ada Pearl made the best breakfasts; I can still recall the smell of thick slabs of bacon sizzling on the cast iron stove.
Some farmers in the area were behind the curve, unable to afford new machinery or maintain the outbuildings, and weren’t destined to get ahead in the world. Orrie was a member of that club. He wore soiled OshKosh B’gosh overalls, smelled of sweat and tobacco, and shaved infrequently. Chickens roamed the muddy-in-spring farmyard. In the mid-1950s, the Fords sold their farm and bought a rambler in town, and we visited them regularly. I recall mowing their lawn in summers, shoveling their sidewalk in winters, and stopping to visit with them after. They were such kind, hardworking people, and they treated me like a grandson.
Today, many decades after my visits with Orrie and Ada Pearl, I can still see two framed photos of their only children, Donald and Cleone, displayed on end tables in their living room. Donald was in uniform. On November 20, 1943, he had been killed in action in the Battle of Tarawa. Cleone looked beautiful. She had died at a relatively young age of a brain hemorrhage. As a youngster, I had no idea of the sadness the Fords carried in their hearts. But my parents did, and that’s why they went out of their way, as often as they could, to stop and say, “Hello in there, hello.”
Hello in There by John Prine
We had an apartment in the city
And me and Loretta liked living there
Well it'd been years since the kids had grown
A life of their own, and left us alone
John and Linda live in Omaha
And Joe is somewhere on the road
And we lost Davy in the Korean war
And I still don't know what for, it don't matter anymore
You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder every day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello"
Me and Loretta, we don't talk much more
She sits and stares through the back door screen
And all the news just repeats itself
Like some forgotten dream that we've both seen
Someday I'll go and call up Rudy
We worked together at the factory
But what could I say if he asks, "What's new?"
"Nothing, what's with you? Nothing much to do"
You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder every day
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello"
So if you're walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare
As if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello"
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