On Saturdays, before I go to the garden, I swing by Dan's, hand over my pocket change and get a refill half coffee / half cappuccino. This takes place a little after 6AM since Dan's opens at 6, sometimes earlier. Am I their first customer? Not a chance.

There were already 5 cars that arrived to Dan's ahead of mine. The inhabitants of those cars were all gray haired men, with their own mugs or refillable containers. They have left the comfort of their cars with leather seats with butt warmers for hard plastic chairs that have been sitting out all night and are wet with dew. They sit in front of Dan's, which is merely a gas station, and shoot the breeze about life, argue about sports and reminisce about the past.

This fascinates me and oh, how I wish I could join their club.

One of my favorite past times is sitting and listening to old men shoot the breeze. I love hearing their stories that they have told a thousand times before. I love how they know so much about the sports they love and the years and dates just drip from their lips like a mother's with her child's birth-weight. I love the fact that they can congregate anywhere, as long as there is some form of coffee... gas stations, diners, etc. I love that they also just sit for long periods of time, not saying anything, just watching the world, reading the paper in a goup, yet no one is offended. I also love the eras they grew up in and how that has shaped, for good or bad, who they were and are.

Josh shares my same fascination and he too wishes he could join their club. My husband and I love eating at restaurant dives in strange towns and we inevitably run into these groups of men and, without even trying to eavesdrop, end up hearing them spin their tales. They speak loudly, either from past ear damage from wars or factories, or they are speaking up for the others who have those conditions.

My grandfather-in-law is one of the sweetest old men I know and talking with him always brings joy into my heart. He too can spin marvelous tales of the past and give you play by plays of the days (base)ball games. In strange ways he embodies a lot of what I feel like my own grandpas would have been like if I was given the chance to go back and enjoy their company once more.

Josh and I went on a Friday night date and stopped by the local high school to watch the end of the game and there in the back, in the free seats that we were enjoying, was the group of old men I normally see at Dan's. And sure enough, the next morning at 6AM, there they all were, double in number now since the football season is officially going strong.

They too, like Josh and I, were reeling from the kid who should've caught the pass that lost the game and oh, how I wanted to add my two cents into their conversation. But I couldn't, I wasn't wearing their club clothes... and I have work to do, a garden to weed... and I have to get back to kids at home, who will be waking and wanting breakfast... and I just don't have the time to sit in front of a gas station all day and not do anything...

Maybe this is why older women do not congregate like this, outside, in open public? They have to be doing something else? Quilting? Their hands have to be busy, they are used to watching kids and doing something else? I sat in the line at Caribou getting my $1 off latte (Thank you Leah!) and was preparing checks for a bank deposit, when the cashier says, "I'm sorry we don't take checks." To which I reply, "This isn't for you, this is for my next stop."

A friend's older grandmother, whom I love and adore, will talk to me for hours about God and life and being a wife and mother but I can assure you we would not be sitting still for it. We'd be making a run with the local police or going to get that good deal on sirloins or something... but not sitting still. And dur