A conversation at the Campbell Senior Center

I am having a lot of fun covering my "beat" - four square blocks just North of downtown Eugene. Yesterday, I went to one of the buildings in this area, Campbell Senior Center. I wanted to just summarize one of my interviews there for my computer notes, but it turned into a semi-interesting short essay.

I wander down the hall to the "pool room," which contains two tables and a whole wall of windows with views of the park outside. Rain is pouring down, obscuring the river just beyond the grassy expanse and making the afternoon seem later than it is. In the room, three men are engaged in a billiards game. My presence doesn't interrupt the rhythm of their turn-taking much, but they do seem fairly entertained by me and my reasons for visiting. Ed Aragon is the most talkative.

Aragon lives in Goshen but comes to the Center every Monday through Friday to play pool in the afternoons. He appears to be in his early 80s, with a grizzled white beard and clouded brown eyes shadowed by a baseball cap. He’s wearing a red and blue checked shirt with red suspenders. When I tell him I’m here to get a feel for the community and see what is on people’s minds, he has one immediate thought: he’s voting no on Measure 49. The other two men agree. “It’s going to give the government too much authority on the land,” Aragon says. I ask if he owns property, he says no.

Aragon scratches after sinking the eight ball and loses the game. It’s getting near closing time, but there’s time for one more match.

The receptionist enters the room to collect money out of the box on the wall. A sign instructs users to pay 25 cents per day. She shakes the coins she found in the box in her open hand. “I got two quarters and three guys here, it just doesn’t add up,” she says. The men look at each other for a moment, then Aragon rummages in his pocket, admitting he hadn’t paid yet. I get the feeling this is kind of a routine that they go through.

I notice a bulletin board covered of pictures of elderly men playing pool, and I comment that there seems to be quite a lot of pool players around. “Some of ‘em died on us,” Aragon says by way of reply, and the others nod their heads in agreement. “We lost a couple this year.”

One of the men racks the balls, but makes a weak break. All three of them use a metal guide on a stick to steady their aims. The rules are lax – shaky hands sometimes inadvertently move balls. As Aragon says, “It don’t matter.” Win or lose, there will be another game.

Now that the afternoon is drawing to a close, Aragon grows sentimental for his home away from home. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t come down here,” he says, answering an unasked question. “I’d be an awful mess.” He says he stopped chasing girls 48 years ago, when he and his wife got married. They are still together, but she doesn’t spend time at the Center. “She hates this place,” Aragon says matter-of-factly.

At the moment, Aragon supposes, his wife is probably “getting the beans on the table” for dinner. She’ll come pick him up soon.

Before I go, he gives me a few more personal details. He was born in Idaho, but has lived throughout the west. He came to Oregon for the first time in 1946 and worked on the construction of the Fern Ridge Dam. He also helped build Eugene’s YMCA and was a logger for 12 years. “I worked anywhere I could find a job,” Aragon says.

He wins this game, just barely, all three men egging each other on light-heartedly. I joke that his opponents are trying to make him feel better for the previous loss.

No point to that, Aragon tells me. “I lost my ego a long time ago.”