A Biased Guide to Old Men in Book Stores

If you don't have any experience with old men in book stores, here is a quick, biased lesson. Old men who habitually frequent book stores always carry little notebooks with them in which they do their little old-man scribbles, be them quotes from books, thoughts about what they have read or felt, reminders, tiny grocery lists, or names of strangers they may or may not have forced their wisdom upon. These notebooks are not journals. They are not diaries. These old men do not peruse the discounted journals and notebooks for their future musings. These notebooks are simply pocket-shaped, possibly spiral notebooks picked up at the local grocer along with the bananas and toilet paper. And into pockets they go.

Old men who frequent book stores typically have deep pockets mostly of the khaki and corduroy variety. Their pants are baggy, their coats are spacious, and rarely are there buttons or zippers along those pockets. Sometimes--sometimes--an old man who frequents book stores may carry with him a simple, tattered shopping bag (most likely from that book store) in which he keeps his notebook, about two books, a magazine, a word-magnifier, maybe some napkins, and tons of receipts from buying coffee at the book store's cafe. Old men who frequent book stores wear sweaters, even in the summer. Book stores are cold in the summer. Rarely ever do you see an old man's bare arms in a book store unless he turns around to you--a complete stranger--rolls up his sleeve, and asks you if his old age spots can be due to eating gluten. And that is how your relationship begins. A button-down shirt is popular, as well. And always, undershirts.

Old men who frequent book stores typically sit with their legs crossed at the knee, like a woman. And when reading, the book is never supine on the table at which they sit. They may walk slightly or completely hunched, but when sitting and when wearing their reading glasses, their faces are angled upward, their eyes peering down at their book or newspaper or magazine which is typically held in their hands. Most old men in book stores wear hats and half will continue wearing the hat during their stay and the other half will place it on the empty chair until they wave you over to sit with them.

If you have befriended an old man who frequents your favorite book store, do not ignore him when you see him. Even if you can get away with it. Always say hello and pardon yourself if you need to. But keep in mind, befriending an old man in a book store is a commitment. And also keep in mind, that when you pardon yourself, you're not typically pardoned until about ten minutes later. You no longer have one thing in common. You have become an interest of his. If you ignore him, he will let it happen the first time. But next time he sees you, he will offer to buy you a coffee and he'll ask you why you were in and out so quick. He's a people-watcher. In-and-out is not your modus operandi. He knows this. He'll question you.

Old men in book stores rarely purchase books. They'll take their own books, read magazines from the newsstand, or treat the book store like a library. They actually read when they're at the book store and rarely fiddle with technology. And if what they are reading is funny, they laugh. If what they are reading is true, they'll audibly agree. If what they are reading is surprising or confusing to them, they'll turn around and ask you to explain. And if you're asked to explain, it most likely has to do with something trendy and insignificant. And when an old man who frequents a book store wants someone to talk to about lofty ideas and opinions, he is unprejudiced. He will talk to you about Leon Trotsky regardless of your gender, age, race, religion, or nationality. He will talk to you about his induction to the National Groundhog Society regardless of your interest.

Old men who frequent book stores always seem at first to be single. They typically sit in their usual seat in the cafe and never with a guest or friend unless it is a fellow (and always younger) book store patron they have befriended. It is easy to assume that they are single because what sound-looking, sweet-looking old man would choose going to a book store almost every evening alone if he has a lady at home to watch Jeopardy with (keep in mind, some old men who frequent book stores threw their televisions out around the time you were born, if you're a millennial). But once you get to know your old man, you realize that he does have a "honey" or a "sweetie" but she does not live with him, hence the small grocery lists in the spiral notebooks. And when he talks to you about his honey or sweetie, you may find a part of you wondering if she is real. Another part of you thinks she is some amazing, world-traveling woman, possibly in a circus, who loves coming home to her predictable, banana-eating, notebook-toting, book store-frequenting "sweetheart". However, no part of you believes she is a sad lady waiting for her man to be available to her. You feel empowered by this old lady you do not know. She's kicking ass at bridge or mastering macrame. She's peacefully reading a book near a moonlit window or taking a ceramics class. She'll see him when she sees him. She spent most of her life tending to a "him" and the children. Now, it's time for watercolor classes, reading every Stephen King novel, and yoga.

And as single and alone as they may seem, old men who frequent book stores are never alone or anonymous. Everyone knows Walter or whatever his name may be. The baristas know his name and he knows theirs. Often the cafe manager will stop and talk with him while he or she is wiping down tables. He gets a Christmas card from the staff. Everyone seems to know his name but for some reason, you know they are not his close friends. They don't know him from out there, but from in here. And mostly everyone who willingly talks with him is younger. Rarely do old men who frequent book stores converse with other old men who frequent book stores. If an old man in a book store ever has drama--and it does happen--it's with other old men who frequent book stores. Those other old men tend to be more upper-class and educated. They do browse the journals and have wives at home. They carry briefcases or messenger bags. They're typically retired CEOs, doctors, engineers, professors, etc. For the most part, they have a full head of white hair. You will know about these old man dramas if an old man moves his hat off a seat for you to sit.

Old men who frequent book stores will scare you and make you uncomfortable. While he's talking to you about jet engines or his thoughts on 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea, you're staring past him at the snow coming down outside. It slices through the light of the street lamps and you wonder if he'll safely make it home. He most likely drives a tank but not of the AWD variety. You worry for him, his safety. You forget that he's decades older than you and has fixed more things in this world than you have posted memes on Facebook. And speaking of Facebook, your eyes may bulge out of your skull for the following reasons: he pulls a smart phone more up-to-date than yours out of his deep pocket and is savvy with Facebook, Twitter, and e-mail (more so than your own parents) or he pulls out a flip phone as old as you are. In this culture of passive-aggressive memes, in this culture of the easily offended, in this culture of I-dare-you-to-try-to-offend-me, you may be taken aback by an old man's directness and his advances. You may find yourself being told you are beautiful, why don't you have a husband/wife, if he were 30 years younger (which is still "too old"), kids these days are so out-of-touch, etc. You may become deeply puzzled that this old man--who has a honey or sweetie--is proposing that he would propose to you if only...The magical thing about this old man who is hitting on you is that you may not find yourself offended and you somehow believe that he would be an amazing sweetheart to have.

Remember, his friendship/acquaintance is good for you. Your life or contentment might not depend on knowing why Pittsburgh's basements have toilets and showers, but you are learning. You are slowing down. You are listening. You are being polite and not checking your vibrating phone. If you're the right kind of friend for him, you do not even want to check your phone.

Old men who frequent book stores will make you feel bad about your life. This feeling of yours will not be his doing. He will consistently find your presence an absolute treasure and plainly tell you so. But the more he talks about the Hungarian class he is taking or the historical reenactments he'll be doing this weekend, the more you realize how much you underestimated him. You, like many other ass holes, look at old men in book stores the same way you look at indigenous peoples photographed in National Geographic. Wow, what a life they must be living not having (this luxury) or (that ability). Do not be surprised if your old man pulls out his smart phone and shows you shirtless pictures of himself not from decades ago, but from yesterday. And don't be surprised if you truly do look at the pictures, not repulsed, and actually see the sinuous features of his naked back. You can see the 25-year-old man in him. You then realize--even though you already knew--that he was not always an old man. There are photographs of him somewhere that are not filtered or posed. Where he is handsome and maybe even sexy. Photographs of him where he's a natural bad-ass in fatigues, or around a campfire with friends, none of their faces illuminated by a phone. There are photographs of him somewhere and his brilliant eyes are looking at the camera and when he isn't looking at the camera, it's not narcissistic. Someone captured him in that moment.

And here you are, capturing him in a moment. He might be a bit too much. He might be senile. He might be failing to understand you. Here he is in his having become. But what are you becoming? Your old man who frequents the book store, if you're appreciating him wisely, will help you understand this.