So I'm sitting in the cafe, corner table, thumbing through knitting magazines and sipping iced tea when I hear a middle-aged woman say this:
"I have morals but I'm not a prude!"
Which immediately made me turn around (discreetly) to see who she was talking to. The man was between fifty and sixty, full head of grey hair, grey beard, wire-rimmed glasses, cup of coffee in front of him.
When was the last time you heard someone use the word "prude"? I don't think I've used "prude" in a sentence since 1967.
They went on to discuss The Little Rascals/Our Gang, a comic serial from the 1930s which most of you probably never heard of. I saw them on television when I was a little girl and grew fond of Spanky and Alfalfa and Farina. Darla got on my nerves. However, Darla was I'm-not-a-prude's favorite character. Second was Buckwheat. She seriously disliked someone named Chubby who must've slipped past my five year old radar because I don't remember him at all.
Eavesdropping can be very dangerous because sometimes you forget you're not part of the conversation and find yourself about to add your own (unwelcome) two cents into the mix. Being the student of worthless pop culture that I am, I wanted to add some information about the teacher Miss Crabtree but good sense (and common decency) reined me back in before I embarrassed myself and annoyed the daylights out of them.
And this I heard from the man sitting behind me. He was reading a newspaper and talking on his cell phone when he said:
"We used to do things together like go to theme parks but she doesn't want to be with me much any more."
He looked around fifty, too. Very tired. Very sad.
Is Borders in Bridgewater the new hangout for the fifty-something set in central NJ?
I'll investigate and get back to you.
Labels: eavesdropping, Little Rascals, NJ