What I learned at Panera about aging courageously

Most Friday mornings you can find me at my local Panera Bread store. Sometimes I'm here with friends -- "therapy," we call it. Other times, like today, it's just me and my laptop, trying to finish off a few work items before the weekend arrives. 

My usual spot is in a booth on the side of the restaurant behind the kitchen. It's quiet and out of the way. But today, all those booths were taken, so I found myself at a table in the main section of the restaurant, a bagel's toss away from another group of regulars.

This group consists of between 8-10 older men, all white-haired (if they have hair). They're here every Friday, too. I usually nod hello on my way to the soda machine, but other than that, have never paid them much attention. 

But today, I'm sitting across from them, which gave me a chance to witness a small but sweet act of courage. 
Today, another older gentleman stopped at the regulars' table. 
"I just wanted to ask you if I could join you sometime," said the newcomer, whose appearance fit right in with the rest of the group. 

The ringleader looked up and said, "That depends, what do you drink? Because we can't have any decaf guys here."
They all had a good laugh and the outsider assured them he counted on his coffee to give him a morning kick in the pants. 

"What's your name?" one of the crew asked. 

"Bill. I just moved from Michigan. I'm living with my daughter."

The group told Bill they are all members of a church down the road. They asked if he goes to church. Bill laughed. 

"You know what I used to do for a living? I was a Lutheran minister." The other fellows are Methodist, not Lutheran, but they figured he would do. 
"Do you like the Colts, Bill?" It was like watching an initiation ceremony. 

"Well, they're one of my two favorite teams. I've been a Detroit Lions fan for a long time," Bill said. "But I love Purdue," he offered, as if trying to save what might have been a deal-breaker. That seemed to appease the gang and they offered Bill a seat at the table. He declined, saying that he had somewhere to be this morning, but he'd be here next Friday. 

"Sounds good. Eight o'clock every Friday. So, where does your daughter live?"

"Hmmm...down 86th street in a condo. It's before you get to the next big street. I'm not sure of the name." I bet he could have given complex directions to his former home in Michigan. 

As Bill walked out of the restaurant, I was struck by his courage. In the grand scheme of things, what Bill did might not seem remarkable. However, moving to a new home in a new state after a lifetime of years somewhere else is courageous. Learning a new city, starting over -- that takes courage. Approaching a group of strangers and asking to be included is courageous, no matter what your age. 

I think I might sit at this same table next Friday.


Amy Magan
Communications Manager