Conversations at the local cafe - Part Two
How one question changed everything
Did you miss PART ONE of this post?
I tried engaging Earle one more time before closing my breakfast tab. He wasn’t receptive. But I was determined to Ripple with this guy.
I got my check from Candy, and she must have noticed my attempt. “Don’t worry, he’s shy. No one really talks to him, so I bet you just surprised him. If you come back, try again. He eats every meal here.”
So that’s what I did. I came back for lunch. And just as Candy had suggested, there was Earle. Eating a hamburger and mumbling something before each bite.
I asked him if the seat next to him was taken. He glanced over and nodded down like the seat is yours if you want it. I took it.
I dove right in. I was on a mission after all. “My name’s Steve. I learned this morning from one of the other customers your name is Earle. Is that right?”
He looked at me with a puzzled look. It was hard to describe, but it seemed like surprise wrapped in a note of suspicion. I continued, “I don’t know if you remember me, but I sat next to you this morning. The guy to my left told me your name. Guess you come here a lot?” Pause for awkward silence. "Hmm, the food here is sure good. This is my 3rd time eating here.”
Then he spoke.
“Tourists love it. Locals don’t love that.” He stared straight ahead.
“I can understand that. Gotta hate those pesky tourists.” He chuckled. Perfect! Maybe there was an opening.
Candy stopped by and ‘voluntold’ me to try the Ruben. I obliged. She asked Earle how his burger was. He winked at her. She winked back. Then she winked at me and nodded in his direction, like hey dummy keep him talking.
I decided to take a swing for the fences approach. “Candy sure is nice.” He didn’t say anything. “So how long have you lived in the area?”
It took what seemed like forever for him to answer. All told, it may have been 3 seconds, but felt like ten minutes.
“My wife and I have lived here for over 50 years, back when no one came to this place,” he said. His piercing blue eyes now looking at me. “Certainly no tourists came down here, except maybe to fish.”
A few minutes passed. Candy brought my sandwich. I took a bite.
“Everything and then some, huh?” he said. Sweet, he’s talking! “It was one of my wife’s favorites. She passed on gosh, nearly 5 years ago now. I get it a few times a week just because.”
“That’s so sweet. I bet she appreciates that.”
“You heard me this morning didn’t you?”
“Pardon?”
“Talking to myself. They all think I’ve lost it. Except for Candy. Candy knows. Don’tcha hun?” Candy was near the register pretending not to listen but curious to see where things might go.
“Oh Earle, we all know Charlene is right here with us. She loves chatting with you.”
I learned Earle talks to his dead wife at every meal. It’s when he feels the closest to her. Mainly because he generally orders all the stuff she would most distinctly not approve of. He has high blood pressure. He’s had two heart attacks and should be eating “a lot more vegetables,” but doesn’t. Their one-sided conversations are mostly about poor food choices. Sometimes he tells her about the sadness he feels not staring at her, something he told me he did all the time while they ate.
It both broke my heart and inspired me, this man’s devotion to his beloved.
We had a delightful chat. He acknowledged I wasn’t that bad a tourist after all and he had not really spoken of his wife to anyone since she passed, except occasionally Candy.
He told me he was grateful that I was interested. It felt good to talk about her, even though he was convinced she might be “perturbed” that his attention was one something other than her. “Not really,” he said. “She’d be thrilled.”
About that time, the guy from breakfast showed up at the counter. He took his seat, plopped down his paper promptly asked Candy for a Diet Coke and “the usual.” He glanced over in my direction and noticed Earle and I were in full conversation.
Candy asked Earle if he wanted some pie. He nodded. “I leaned over and asked him if Charlene would approve.” He snorted with an enthused laugh.
“No, probably not. But let’s not tell her, okay?”
“Oh, she knows. But I bet she’ll let it slide on account of these pesky tourists bugging me and all.” He smiled. A big beautiful smile.
Then I felt the tap. The guy next to me whispered, “How in the Hell did you get crazy Earle to talk to you?”
I whispered back, “He’s not crazy. He’s just lonely and missing his wife.” The man’s eyes got big, like this shocking news of some kind. I asked his name.
He said, “Ahh, Tim.” He grew a little uncomfortable.
I said, “Tim, meet my new friend, Earle. I suppose you guys might know one another since you both eat here for every meal.” I laughed. Earle laughed. Tim seemed in a momentary state of shock, but sheepishly shook his head in acknowledgement.
“Anyhoo, Tim, we need a judge’s ruling on this pie situation. Earle thinks his dearly departed Charlene would not approve of him getting a piece of pie. I think she would. What say you, Tim?”
Tim was like a deer in headlights but Earle was staring straight at him with a bemused look on his face. I suspect he knew exactly what I was doing. Tim mumbled, “You can’t ever go wrong with pie.”
Then something changed.
Tim got a big smile on his face and while looking straight at Earle he said, “I betcha Charlene would be alright with it. In fact, I think she would want us all to get a piece.”
He looked at me for approval. I gave it to him without saying a word. He looked back at Earle, raised his Diet Coke with cheers. Earle smiled, grabbed his mug and did the same. He then nodded approvingly in Candy’s direction, like get me my pie!
“Now you boys are talking! Fresh coffee too?” Of course.
There is much more to this story, but for now I want to keep that between me and Earle…oh, and Tim. What I can share with you are a few personal lessons I learned from this entire experience.
Love doesn’t end with death.
Talking to someone who isn’t there isn’t a sign of crazy. It’s commitment.
Judging someone without knowing them or their situation is wrong.
Some people feel so alone that their only conversation is with themselves or with someone they’ve lost. We should step up to engage them because they so want us to. Hell, they need us to.
Guys like Earle and Tim just need a reason to talk. Maybe you can be that reason. Now, that’s a Ripple!
Pesky tourists suck. Glad I’m not one of them.
Love it. Judging before knowing anyone's story is so wrong, you hit the nail right on the nail. Good on you for taking the time to talk to Earle...everyone has a story, whatever it might be. I am sure that now he must surely feel less lonely and happy to see that someone took time to talk to him but mostly listen to him.