12:44 a.m.
There's an old man with a blue jacket who comes into the Hanover Diner every night. He's always extremely quiet but very polite and pleasant. It's people like this where the real stories lie. He's not out saving the world, he's not rescuing damsels, not fighting crime. But he must have some inner demons and regrets and unexplainable emotions that he faces every day. He's probably been here all of his life. And he doesn't care what kind of records you listen to, or what types of movies you watch, books you read. He doesn't mill over the sorry state of youngsters these days. Because as far as he's concerned, as long as they're good to their mothers, and treat other people with respect, he doesn't care what they do.
It's pretty clear that there's no wife at home, and if he has any family, they're far away. And as I sit in the booth across from him - a twenty-year-old girl with her schoolwork, who's full of undefinable ideas and half-ambitions and who's just searching for someone to love her - I realize it's okay. People still survive in this world, even if only with a simple and ordinary life. Life isn't about degrees and projects and accomplishments. It's about quiet moments spent with others or spent all alone on an early Wednesday morning at the diner. Everyone assumes it's about the memories and the nostalgia of things past. They're wrong, and I didn't realize how wrong they were until I watched this fellow walk in here. Life is a simple smile from an old man with a blue jacket that says, without words, "I'm here right now and you're here. And I'll probably forget you and you'll probably forget me, but at this moment we both acknowledged that we existed."
It's pretty clear that there's no wife at home, and if he has any family, they're far away. And as I sit in the booth across from him - a twenty-year-old girl with her schoolwork, who's full of undefinable ideas and half-ambitions and who's just searching for someone to love her - I realize it's okay. People still survive in this world, even if only with a simple and ordinary life. Life isn't about degrees and projects and accomplishments. It's about quiet moments spent with others or spent all alone on an early Wednesday morning at the diner. Everyone assumes it's about the memories and the nostalgia of things past. They're wrong, and I didn't realize how wrong they were until I watched this fellow walk in here. Life is a simple smile from an old man with a blue jacket that says, without words, "I'm here right now and you're here. And I'll probably forget you and you'll probably forget me, but at this moment we both acknowledged that we existed."