Deer In Headlines II

By Gery Deer

The other day, I was sitting in a coffee shop when I overheard a conversation between four senior gentlemen at the nearby table. Based on their appearance, I guessed they were in their late 70s, active and clear-minded. The cold Ohio winter had them dressed appropriately in jeans, heavy walking shoes, sweaters, down jackets, and winter caps. These men obviously knew each other quite well and shared common interests.

It was not my intention to eavesdrop, but they were talking loudly enough you could pick up their voices from well across the shop. Anyone could see this meeting was a crucial part of their social life. One of them even mentioned how much he enjoyed getting together regularly and noted how much he learned from the others.

In fact, they all seemed to relish the conversation, which covered a wide range of topics from sports to live theater. I found a brief interaction they had about The Phantom of the Opera of particular interest. While some topics, like the state of American politics, sparked more spirited discussion, they remained respectful and considerate towards one another.

At one point, one of them told a detailed story about how he’d been working on the roof of his home. Suddenly, he found himself stranded up there because his ladder had fallen. He called out for his wife, but she apparently didn’t hear, which left him there for some time. Fortunately, all worked out for the best, and through the laughter, his comrades were giving him a good bit of grief about fooling around on a roof “at his age.” I imagined their adult children giving each of them the same speech in a more serious tone, only to be ignored later.

We occupied one corner of the shop for about an hour, though I believe my subjects had been there for a while before I arrived. They’ll never know it, but they gave me back a moment from my childhood.

When I was around 10, Dad occasionally took me for breakfast at the small diner where my mother waitressed (her word). Early each morning, a group of movers and shakers from our tiny farm town arrived, one at a time, and occupied the same corner booth. 

The pack was usually a mix. Among them, you might find some combination of the local banker, a town doctor, the police chief, the undertaker, the barber, or even the mayor. As they drained one pot of Joe after another, they discussed whatever came up, solved all the world’s problems, and, of course, kept those solutions to themselves. If only they’d just told someone how to do it. It was like the small-town equivalent of the Algonquin Roundtable.

That gathering was far more than social, and the booth’s occupants probably weren’t as ancient as they would have appeared to me when I was a boy. But this was a staple for all of them, a necessary gathering of the minds that continued until each of them was too elderly or infirm to attend.

These days, you might see a mix of people, men, and women, even varying ages, who do the same thing – a regular gathering with no other purpose but to share stories, discuss world affairs, or just complain about the weather. Whatever it is, it’s good for the psyche – and your overall health.

There are countless studies on the benefits of socialization as we get older. Strangely enough, many seniors, either due to depression, their living situation, or choice, often prefer isolation. My parents weren’t big socializers, though my mom enjoyed family parties and time with her siblings. Dad, not so much. Their “roundtable” consisted simply of family and a few close friends. I’d say I’m more like Dad, though I hope a little less self-isolating. I’ve never been particularly comfortable in social situations.

However, I have managed to learn how to deal with my own social anxiety. I think I’m better at socializing than I used to be. As a child, I wouldn’t have understood the importance and value of the coffee shop roundtable to those who were there. But as I rocket towards 60, I’m starting to understand and appreciate the importance and necessity of those connections.