of the editorial page staff
published by the StarTribune
June 7, 1970
HOW DOES a man who's within three weeks of being 83 years old make out alone in a six room house?
John E. Tatam does very well, thank you. Even though he has no love for cooking and housework, he takes these chores philosophically. His only complaints are that his hearing isn't what it used to be and he has no sight in his right eye.
His left eye isn't so good, either, and with blindness to dust and disarray being common even among males with normal vision, it might be assumed that the Tatam menage was a mess.
BUT NOT SO. John Tatam is a man with a sense of order. When I dropped in the other evening unexpectedly there wasn't a newspaper on the floor, a magazine out of the rack, or a chair out of place.
Tatam and his wife, Helen, moved into the house on York Av.S. 50 years ago. After their two sons and three daughters grew up and departed, they stayed on. And when Mrs. Tatam died two years ago John Tatam gave no thought to moving elsewhere.
"This is home and it's where I belong," he said. "I won't move until I have to-- until I lose what sight I have or am otherwise disabled."
That may not be soon. This particular oldster has remarkable stamina and certainly is not disabled in the head. He's alert to what's going on, he's articulate, interested and interesting.
NOT MANY years ago you'd see him on a ladder painting or repairing an eaves trough or doing a bit of carpentry. He was a demon do-it-yourselfer. "But those days are over," he smiles ruefully. "Eyes won't permit it."
He still does more than most men in the neighborhood, though. He consistently has one of the best lawns in the block and fights weeds and crabgrass on hands and knees with unflagging resolve. He plants grass seed the same way. "I have to work on all fours to see what I'm doing," he explains.
WHAT'S the secret of his successful management?
"Self-discipline. I get up every day at 7 a.m. winter, summer and Sundays. I shave every morning, have certain jobs to do and do them on schedule, even to checking the thermometer. If I didn't discipline myself I'd sleep too much and be only half awake even when on my feet."
Tatam's eyes aren't up to watching much television but he turns on the set anyway. "When you're alone a lot it's nice to hear another voice. Sometimes I sing to break the silence, not softly but loud. It's surprising how singing can cheer a man up."
He has to use a reading glass for books and newspapers so does less reading than formerly. A glass makes reading awfully slow, he complains. Still he reads enough to keep abreast of the news.
TATAM finally retired in 1965 after half a century "of doing a little of everything." Everything from banking to promoting, from being a purchasing agent to a manufacturer's representative, from a staff man with the Minneapolis Civic and Commerce Association to an insurance salesman specializing in annuities. He was chief of the contract section of the state procurement office of the Treasury Department for a time and also with the Committee for Economic Development for Hennepin County.
"I was too much a jack-of-all-trades, I guess," he reflects. "It seems I was always filling in for somebody else and moving from one department to another."
But he looks down the years with satisfaction. His children and 15 grandchildren are "mighty considerate." A son and a daughter live in the area and he's usually with one family or the other on Sunday.
ONCE a month he has lunch with a few old friends, including Perry Williams, former executive secretary of the Civic and Commerce Association.
When he gets lonely he gets busy. There always are weeds to pull, a hinge to oil or a window to putty.
And there are old days to recapture, rapturous memories of the Metropolitan Theater which he loved--and those old songs to sing.
Copyright 2013 StarTribune. Republished here with the permission of the StarTribune. No further republication or redistribution is permitted without the express approval of the StarTribune.
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