Shooting a little hoop says a lot – if words don’t work

I drove back in time last week. With Randy.

We stopped by the house he used to live in and then did the same at my old house a few doors down.

We lived on the same street in North Aurora in the 1960s. I can’t recall how we met as teenagers. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he just showed up at my door. He did that a lot.

I knew a knock at the door would be Randy, and he wanted one of two things. He was clutching a baseball with his mitt or more often had a basketball tucked under his arm.

“Wanna shoot some hoop?” he’d ask. Often I did not, but ... it was not just about shooting hoops. He could do that alone. But it didn’t feel right for him to be alone. So we played some H-O-R-S-E at his house.

My day with Randy was arranged to include a basketball. We went to a park near where he lives now, where two men in their 70s shot hoops. But we couldn’t play H-O-R-S-E.

Randy cannot do that well anymore. He struggles with putting sentences together or understanding what others say. He is trapped in a fog full of static. That part of his brain that translates language expression and comprehension is damaged by primary progressive aphasia.

Aphasia has taken away part of the Randy I knew. But not all of him. He didn’t need words to shoot or pass to me as I moved to the hoop. He used to coach basketball and was in his element.

He expressed frustration when he missed shots. We both struggled. Too many shots fell shockingly short. Hitting the backboard was an achievement and we cheered when the ball slid through the net. (Not often.)

I had a great chat with Randy, but it was not the usual back and forth banter. We connected with body language and lots of laughter. When shots went wide we looked at each other and laughed. Loudly. Through his wide grin, I knew he was telling me people were watching and laughing at us.

When we drove to the old neighborhood he pointed out houses. It was unclear why, but he recited the address when he saw his old house. We drove to the nearby grade school that we both saw being built. We had played baseball in a nearby grassy area. There are two ball fields there now. And a small basketball court. So, yep, we shot some more hoop.

It was a good day. His wife Ann told me it’s OK to do the same things over again. So it’s likely we will do it again.

“You could be the guy who takes him to North Aurora,” she said.

Ann has developed her own tools and code to communicate with Randy, but what’s ahead will get tougher for them.

However, she stressed, “He is still sweet and happy, so mostly living a good life.”

That’s the Randy I remember and still know – making jokes, laughing, huge smiles.

I left my basketball at his house. It’s where it belongs, as a standing invitation for me knock on his door.

It’s my turn now to ask a friend, “Wanna shoot some hoop?”

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His PaperWork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.