The Old Man with the Accent and the Danish

18Mar11

One of my customers today was a very old man; he seemed older because he had a thick accent. German? I wasn’t sure if he couldn’t read, couldn’t see or couldn’t read English. He toddled over to the register to ask us what the shaker of cinnamon on the condiment bar was for. He pointed emphatically, eyes wide open, gray eyebrows arched. Could he use it? For his coffee? Is it cinnamon?

He sat at a table in the middle of the café and enjoyed his cheese danish unceremoniously. Ripped and tore at it. Maybe he had false teeth and it made it difficult for him to get a good bite. Maybe we just become less aware of ourselves with age.

He reminded me of Jacob Jankowski in Water for Elephants, except Jacob didn’t have an accent. What unforgettable tales did he hold in his sprightly mind that he wouldn’t be able to express to me even if I asked? How had the turns his life had taken dump him for a few quiet moments in a Starbucks in Minneapolis? What stories of heartbreak and triumph were scribbled in the corners of his memory?

He intrigued me, this old man with a foreign accent. It made me think: maybe it won’t be quite so bad to get old.

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