What prompted this post was a chance encounter at my local coffee shop Thursday morning. I was standing in line behind a man whom Linda, the cashier, addressed as Joe. He is a regular, hangs out with a small group of men who gather there in the morning before going off to work, or golf, or fishing, or whatever it is they do each day. Until Thursday morning, I didn't know his name, barely paid him any attention, in fact. Just knew his face from being a semi-regular, myself.
Linda placed a coffee mug on the counter before Joe had a chance to say anything.
"Your regular order, Joe?" she asked, reaching for a fork and spoon to add to his tray. She had started to walk toward the bagel display, but stopped, awaiting his response.
"No, I think I'll have one of those cherry danish things," he said. "I'm celebrating this morning."
Linda lifted her eyebrows in mild surprise and asked him the cause of his celebration.
"I was awakened at midnight last night," he said, pausing, his face reflecting wonder or puzzlement - I couldn't tell which.
"My son called to tell me I am a grandfather!"
He and Linda chatted for the few seconds it took to fill his order and pay for it. How nice, I thought, a brand-new Grandpa. Joe took his mug and tray to the coffee urn area, while I got my order and found a booth. I intended to work on a story I've been trying to finish for several weeks now, but I was taken by the exchange between Joe and one of his unnamed coffee buddies.
"Did I hear right? You're now a grandfather?" asked the Jeep-Man. (He owns a big red Jeep and parks in 'my' spot almost every morning. I'd deflate his tires, but his Jeep could pulverize my ancient, rusting Jimmy, so I don't do it.)
"Yep, my son called me at midnight! It's a boy!"
Lots of good wishes from the other coffee-buddies, most of it lost to me because I couldn't follow all the voices at once. Then Jeep-Man spoke up again under the din of all the other talk; his voice a bit different, as if just the two of them were in the room, or as if what he had to say was a very private conversation in some sort of code. Made me listen intently.
"Everyone okay?"
"Yes," answered New Grandpa, "they seem to be. Thank you."
In the space between "be" and "thank you" barely a breath was taken, but there was a monumental change in tone and meaning in that space. I heard the ragged edge to the 'thank you' and felt it.
Both men instantly went back to their regular hale-and-hearty, good ol' coffee-buddy patter, as if nothing had transpired, but it did. It did. Jeep-Man and New Grandpa Joe let the door to the world of male emotions crack open just a wee bit, and I was witness.
In that exchange, I heard and felt the fear of a spectre as old as humanity itself, whispered underneath the words of polite inquiry. Joe and Jeep-Man spoke the Unspeakable, the spectre of Death-in-Childbirth, the Scourge of ancient man, of man before we had language to express our fears. The Scourge that plagues us still, despite our advances in medicine.
I was gobsmacked, the best word I could think of at the time to describe the impact of that exchange on me. See, I don't know anything about men, other than their physiology, their anatomy. Men are a mystery to me, unfathomable, so not-me that I am leery of them - if I'm honest with myself about it.
New Grandpa Joe and Jeep-Man let me peek into the emotional life of men, which they are so very good at keeping to themselves.
I'm talking about the core-of-the-animal kind of stuff. The raw emotion, protect at all costs, vulnerable stuff. The emotional hurl kind of feelings, like I had when my grandchild was born. It was there in Joe's "Thank you," about to puke itself all over Jeep-Man's quilted jeans vest and fawn-color, buckskin-leather hiking boots - all over the tiled floor of the coffee-shop. Fresh-kill raw, uncontrollable, unstoppable, scary as hell.
For that split-second glimpse, I knew men. They aren't so different from me, after all. They just don't talk so readily about their atavistic responses as I do, but they're there, right beneath the skin. Who knew?
Happy Father's (Grandfather's) Day, New Grandpa Joe, Jeep-Man and all your coffee-drinking, back-slapping buddies down at my local coffee shop. And thanks.
(c)2009 Text and photo of my grandson. Martha McLemore
