Coffee jitters and little old men

I am mainlining coffee this morning while banging my head against the table at my favorite coffee shop (props to Arts Etc who makes the best coffee and veggie wraps - okay, hands-down, the best food - in Martinsville). I love it here - it's inspiring and comfortable. Regardless, statistics makes no sense today and I can think of hundreds of things I'd rather be doing. But Spain is calling and this project must be finished before I depart, so I press on. For a moment.

Focus not being what it should be, I am distracted by a group of men sitting to my right. This group spends every morning here, drinking Maxwell House coffee (that's made specially and only for them as they don't like the brew of the day), munching bagels and muffins, solving the problems of the world. They range in age from 60-90 and the size of their group fluctuates from 5-15. I am generally able to tune them out, though it's impossible to work when they are all here as it is a true cacophony.

My relationship with this group is complicated and ever-evolving. They tolerate my presence nearby and occasionally draw me in to conversation, but women are strictly prohibited from sitting with them. So far this morning they've sung "Happy Earth Day" (to the tune of Happy Birthday), discussed the Chicago Cubs (I know because they asked me who the manager was and were very impressed when I came up with Lou Piniella - no small thanks to Google), and scoffed my choice of shoes (flip flops - as is always).

This group is not homogeneous by any stretch of the imagination. Some are sweet, some are curmudgeons, some are Democrats, some are Republicans, some are racist, most are male chauvinists, some are quiet, some are loud, they are all religious. No topic is safe from scrutiny and I overhear the snipits: the turkey that got away, city leadership's decision-making abilities, kids/wife/family driving them crazy though they all obviously love them dearly, church politics. Sometimes they agree, other times they argue, but they always return for daily camaraderie.

They tell me jokes. Today, as is true most days, chauvinistic in nature. In short: Man robs bank. Asks guy if he saw him rob bank. Guy says yes, man shoots guy. Man turns and asks another guy same question. Answer, "no but my wife did." Sometimes the jokes are both religious and chauvinistic in nature (I think they get bonus points for these) - predictably some variation of God messing with Adam's rib to the detriment of the world. The occasional poke at themselves: "when you're as old as I am, your memory is the second thing to go." So I hear.

They tell me these jokes and I laugh, at the delivery rather than the message, but they don't know that. There's really no point in explaining it to them. They come from a world where women cater to their every whim even when those whims require them to wear high heels to clean the house (true story). To them, women exist to feed them, dress them, drool over them. Now, they are old enough to flirt with young women and not be threatening - in fact, they are adorable and endearing (if not just a tiny bit infuriating) and I'm quite lucky that they enjoy entertaining me so much.

"To be seventy years young is sometimes far more cheerful and hopeful than to be forty years old." ~Oliver Wendell Holmes