Those Old Men Who Talk Behind Their Cigars
I remember, when I was young, watching foreign movies in which old men who wore old hats sat in wooden chairs, usually with newspapers either in their hands to signify that they were reading the news, or those same newspapers used and folded on the table, to show that they had just read the news. The old men usually sat facing the street, in front of a store or a cafe. Some of these old men smoked cigars, and at least half of them had oily faces and looked as if they hadn’t shaved in a day. They almost always had round bellies and their pants were cinched up high, almost to their chests. I assumed that they all had wives who were at home cooking or at the market, consorting with other wives, these women also with round bellies, and their pants or the waists of their dresses cinched up high.
When I was young, I couldn’t comprehend what these old men were talking about. As I get older, I’m starting to understand.
My friends and I have reached the point where we can see the end of our lives. The distance looking forward is a bit further than the distance looking back, but both are there, nonetheless. There is a certain clarity and definition to be able to look both ways and see what was done, what had to be done, what couldn’t be done, what shouldn’t have been done, and what needs to be done from this point on, regardless of the past.
With this understanding comes a power. At our age now, my friends and I, unlike when we were younger, have the power to change everything. We have the knowledge, the faculties, the income, the associations, and the capacity to do almost anything we want. Now, many of us have as much, if not more, responsibility than our parents, many of whom because of their age and frailty, depend on us as much as we used to depend on them. The choices that we used to entrust to them, they now entrust to us.
With so much power and responsibility, how does one conduct oneself? We are not children anymore, yearning to play until our parents call us inside. We are not teenagers anymore, rebelling against anything worth rebelling against. And neither are we young adults anymore, doing as we please simply because we can. We have been through these years already, and we have done what was expected of us through these years.
So, what do we do now?
In most other countries, there is no choice in the matter. Simple necessity takes over, forcing adults to bear down and work to help support the family. Most other countries do not have a generous credit and welfare system, nor do they have such a high standard of living that allow mistakes to be committed, forgiven, repeated, then forgiven again.
I can imagine these old men in foreign countries, with their round bellies, talking about America and Americans. I can imagine these old men understanding America more than Americans do. I can imagine these old men reading their newspapers, leaning back in their wooden chairs, and talking to each other through the cigar smoke. I can imagine these old men living a very simple, but infinitely more knowledgeable, way of life.
Maybe I will be one of them someday, if I’m lucky. With my round belly and oily face, I already have a head start.
5 Replies to “Those Old Men Who Talk Behind Their Cigars”
You can find the scene you are describing in some hidden places where we live, believe it or not. Obviously Seal Beach, Huntington Beach, or the blend “trendy” spots near water do not have them. Go for the diverse communties, go where the spice is, Little India, Little Saigon, Thai Town, Little Armenia, anywhere you see people clustering in areas where they feel confortable to spare a few minutes to stop and think, to be themselves around an imperfect and movable table. The local Starbucks doesn’t count, you have to look cool there. Can’t have the cinched pants…
“With so much power and responsibility, how does one conduct oneself? We are not children anymore, yearning to play until our parents call us inside. We are not teenagers anymore, rebelling against anything worth rebelling against. And neither are we young adults anymore, doing as we please simply because we can. We have been through these years already, and we have done what was expected of us through these years.”do you feel differently now about your grandmother? i remember going to her convalescent home with your dad, sometimes on my own; and also to your home when your parents were gone on vacation because no one could take care of her. how do you reconcile your position now with your parents with the relationship you had with your grandmother then-in your late 20s and me in my early 20s? would you do things differently? just curious.i do agree with your post. i think, however, it tends to sound as if it underestimates young people and their sense of responsibilities. i feel that i’ve had this experience as someone in my late teens and early 20s with a sickly mother and your grandmother. and i’ve seen this with my friends and other young people i know as well who’ve made every effort to be their parents and grandparents’ caretakers; without patting themselves on the back but a sense of love and genuine concern.
“do you feel differently now about your grandmother?”I still feel the same, actually, but I would have done things differently, with the knowledge I have now. Thank goodness someone finally mentioned how much of an idiot/asshole/selfish bastard I used to be–I keep telling my current friends what I used to be and none of them believe me. Thank you cousin for clearing this up. Now it’s on record:)“i do agree with your post… without patting themselves on the back but a sense of love and genuine concern.”If you’re implying that I’m patting myself on the back, I actually wrote this piece to encourage myself to get my act together, because I am one of those spoiled Americans. That’s why I said “If I’m lucky” I’ll get there. I’m still very very far from it.
“and i’ve seen this with my friends and other young people i know as well who’ve made every effort to be their parents and grandparents’ caretakers; without patting themselves on the back but a sense of love and genuine concern.” my statement were directed at my friends and young people who cared to share their experiences with me and what it meant to them. it sincerely wasn’t a dig at you. i apologize if it sounded that way. i’m also not here to comment on your blog to testify how you were in the past to your friends. if they want that, they won’t get it from me. because i believe my cousin is a good person. besides, we all have inner demons that we’re trying to exorcise. i have tons of them. i just commented in this particular one because it related to my experiences as a young woman – put in situations of responsibility at such an early age. i’m sensitive to that. and i agree with failedpilot that there are enclaves in california that resemble the situations i’ve described in kansas. i’ve volunteered in many of those places having lived in california for most of my life and most of that was because of the close proximity my house was to the inner cities.
Nah, don’t worry about it. I sincerely mean this when I say what just happened is a good thing, regardless of my inference. Onward, cousin, onward, with a smile and no regrets.