Took the two lads to the local almost fast food place for dinner two weeks ago. It was cold and the restaurant was almost deserted, just us eating our fries along with two older fellows.
Mid-meal I did my usual recon around the place to see if any of my wife's relatives or my ex-girlfriends were on site, the latter which would possibly help determine which exit we used. Ninety-percent of the time that we eat at this place we see one of my wife's relatives, and as for ex-girlfriends ...
My visual inspection confirmed that we were nearly alone in the restaurant but my gaze fell on one of the old fellows sitting alone in a booth by the window. He looked to be 65 or so, thin, and wore his jacket over his shoulders, not taking any chances with the heat.
He did nothing to draw attention to himself, but it was difficult to look away. His face was like a dishrag and he had a nearly visible pall of sadness around him. He looked defeated. Each time a car went by or someone walked into the restaurant, his head perked up for a moment, looking for recognition, but then went back down to stare at the table top and his lone cup of coffee.
What can you do? Or, to put it more aptly, what can you do when you have a two year old and an 11 year old and you're dangerously low on both milk and fries and you've already stacked all the creams on the table into towers and knocked them down ten times?
The other old fellow walked over and said hello. Since they were both in their sixties we could clearly hear what they were saying, as could people in the gas station next door, I'd assume. Introductions were made and they pretty much started to give each other their recent history.
The lonely guy with his jacket on his shoulders said that, unannounced, his wife of 35 years had recently left him for another man and that they were to be married soon. He said this came as a complete surprise and "my wife never even told me what I did wrong". He said his kids had stopped talking to him and his wife wants all the furniture. He seemed exasperated by how it had all blindsided him.
His new friend said that his wife of 40 years had recently and unexpectedly died. He could not bring himself to eat at home yet and was eating dinner "over town" most nights. He stood by the booth of the coat on the shoulders guy, and they tried to console one another, as much as Minnesota guys are capable of, anyway.
Someone said you never write anything of real value until you're 40. I don't know about that; I read things now that I wrote in my late 20s and am envious of the energy and enthusiasm that guy has so much of. I do know that I spent a very long time in my life trying to understand why I made the mistakes that I did and how these events impacted my life and relationships.
We drove through the drive through an hour later (I have a teenager) and the two lonely guys were now sitting in a booth, two cups of coffee between them, trying to understand it all.
Mid-meal I did my usual recon around the place to see if any of my wife's relatives or my ex-girlfriends were on site, the latter which would possibly help determine which exit we used. Ninety-percent of the time that we eat at this place we see one of my wife's relatives, and as for ex-girlfriends ...
My visual inspection confirmed that we were nearly alone in the restaurant but my gaze fell on one of the old fellows sitting alone in a booth by the window. He looked to be 65 or so, thin, and wore his jacket over his shoulders, not taking any chances with the heat.
He did nothing to draw attention to himself, but it was difficult to look away. His face was like a dishrag and he had a nearly visible pall of sadness around him. He looked defeated. Each time a car went by or someone walked into the restaurant, his head perked up for a moment, looking for recognition, but then went back down to stare at the table top and his lone cup of coffee.
What can you do? Or, to put it more aptly, what can you do when you have a two year old and an 11 year old and you're dangerously low on both milk and fries and you've already stacked all the creams on the table into towers and knocked them down ten times?
The other old fellow walked over and said hello. Since they were both in their sixties we could clearly hear what they were saying, as could people in the gas station next door, I'd assume. Introductions were made and they pretty much started to give each other their recent history.
The lonely guy with his jacket on his shoulders said that, unannounced, his wife of 35 years had recently left him for another man and that they were to be married soon. He said this came as a complete surprise and "my wife never even told me what I did wrong". He said his kids had stopped talking to him and his wife wants all the furniture. He seemed exasperated by how it had all blindsided him.
His new friend said that his wife of 40 years had recently and unexpectedly died. He could not bring himself to eat at home yet and was eating dinner "over town" most nights. He stood by the booth of the coat on the shoulders guy, and they tried to console one another, as much as Minnesota guys are capable of, anyway.
Someone said you never write anything of real value until you're 40. I don't know about that; I read things now that I wrote in my late 20s and am envious of the energy and enthusiasm that guy has so much of. I do know that I spent a very long time in my life trying to understand why I made the mistakes that I did and how these events impacted my life and relationships.
We drove through the drive through an hour later (I have a teenager) and the two lonely guys were now sitting in a booth, two cups of coffee between them, trying to understand it all.