The End of Well Dressed Old Men?

There he is again, my new crush. I look for him now, I wonder when I don't see him; I can't decide how to behave when I see him, I vow that next time, I will speak to him.

His back is completely rounded and is quite stooped. His right foot point to his left foot's arch, his leg is crooked. He takes a step forward with his left foot, pauses and pushes or slides his right foot to meet it. His progress is slow but steady. His head is tilted down and slightly to the left; his gaze is on the ground in front of him. I think when he wants to look up, he raises his eyes, not his head. It looks so awkward, it seems like it would be painful, I don't know if I'm projecting or it is painful. There is a big retirement center in the neighborhood, I imagine he lives there and could have his shopping done for him if he wanted. I think or want to think that he enjoys being out on the weekends with everyone. He may be out every day, I don't know. I want to think he enjoys his walks, his independence, the sun, the people in all colors and shapes.

His tweed coat fits loose and long, especially around the shoulders. His brown wool trousers are full and pleated, belted at his waist, also big. He wears a felt hat and uses a cane. In my mind he is 73 and Italian. He's a well dressed dapper old man, something that I don't think we'll see in another 30 and 40 years. I believe he's had these clothes for years and years, worn to work, or church or on outings when he was taller and stouter and had a straight spine. Quality lasts.

What will the next generations of old men wear when they go out? Sweats? Jeans? Baseball caps? Hoodies? Logos. I don't think they will, for the most part, be dapper. Future young people won't know what a dapper old man looked like. That's sad. What look will replace the dapper old man? What word will replace dapper?

My neighborhood is full of gentle hills and sidewalks for walking. There's Whole Foods at one end, Trader Joe's on the other, with a lake and about a mile and half in between, a nice urban residential mix.

The first time I saw him, he was about a block from Whole Foods, carrying his paper bag by the handles. We were walking towards each other and I wondered if I should offer to help him. I remember from my days at United Cerebral Palsy in supportive employment that we were taught to not automatically ask people if they needed help based only on the fact that they were less able than us. Most people want to be self sufficient. I get that, but it's hard to figure out sometimes. In situations like these, I try to make my presence known and make myself available to lend a hand if they want it. I smiled at him, I'd like to think he saw. When we passed each other, I turned around and stopped to watch him. My heart was full. He seemed to be doing fine.

I saw him again last Saturday, just past the Farmer's Market on the way to Trader Joe's. We clearly hang out at the same places. The sidewalk on Lakeside was crowded and he calmly and steadily made his way. This time I was behind him. I watched him and then passed him and turned to see him navigate expertly. He wore the same outfit or one similar.

I was truly surprised to see him this far from where I imagine he lives. Like many of my love affairs, much of this is taking place in my mind. I'm so eager to see him again. His spirit moves me. I admire his style, his way of living. I'm speaking to him next time.