Coffee at JJ's - Ch. 3: Fitting In

   It's a lifelong concern, I'm pretty sure, that most of us share: Do we belong? Will we be accepted? Will we fit in? More than fifty years ago, when I started the ninth grade at a new school, I remember having the same feeling: will I fit in?
   But fifty years brings a certain amount of experience. We learn not to fear new surroundings and new people, or least not to let it show. So I think, Well, screw it. Either they'll like me or they won't. Let's go see.
When I walk into JJ's I am glad to see Greg, Toshi and Jake already there.
   "Hey, Chuck!"
   "How ya doin, Chuck?"
   They are greeting me by name. A good sign. Another man, whose name I don't quite hear when we are introduced, is seated with them. I sit at the adjacent table, curious to see what the morning will bring. Within a few minutes someone else comes in and buys a cup of coffee.
   "Benny," Greg tells him when the man turns to face us. "Say hi to Chuck. He's one of the guys now."
   One of the guys? I think. Already?
   Tall, thin, dark-skinned and lanky, Benny's graying, wavy hair is combed straight back. He is clearly of Mexican descent and seems to be about my age, maybe a bit younger. Benny says hi to me without smiling. Since I am sitting alone at a table that can hold four people, I offer to have him sit with me.
   "Naw," Benny says, moving to another table. "I'll sit over here. I ain't afraid of these guys."
   Smiling, I tell him, "Maybe you should be."
   They laugh. The man whose name I didn't hear doesn't seem to have much to say. I assume he is just naturally taciturn. He sits with arms folded, looking off in the distance, wearing a neatly pressed white T‑shirt, clean white tennis shoes and light jeans. Like most of the others, he seems to be about my age, give or take a couple of years.
   One by one, other men join the group. A man named Louie enters, and Greg tells me he's a professional photographer. Then he tells Louie I'm writing a book about memoirs. Louie merely nods but the man next to me, whose name I still haven't heard, says, "You know, I'd like to write my memoirs someday. But I can't."
   "Why not?" I ask, curious. "Who wouldn't let you?"
   "State law," the man says. "I can't reveal any details about my job. I signed a confidentiality agreement."
   Greg leans in toward us and tells me, "Until he retired a few years ago, Ryan here worked with mental patients in a state hospital. —You know, the loony bin." He makes a twirling motion by one ear. Now I've heard the other man's name: Ryan. He smiles tolerantly at Greg.
   "You were a psychiatrist?" I ask Ryan.
   Shaking his head, he says, "Registered Nurse."
   "But memoirs don't have to be about your job," I tell him. "You can write about childhood, marriage, or your time in the service. You can write memoirs about any phase of your life."
   Ryan just nods noncommittally.
WE TALK AND I SIP my coffee for another half-hour or so before going to the counter and asking for a refill. I toss a one-dollar bill into the Tip Jar by the cash register. Two other men come in and Greg introduces me to them as well. Frank and Wallace. Both are large men, with Frank standing well over six feet and weighing at least two hundred and fifty pounds. He combs his short, blond hair to one side. Beefy arms.
   Wallace, though shorter, has a large, almost perfectly white mustache. He always wears a baseball cap, though not always the same one. He invariably arrives in tennis shoes, old Levis and a flannel shirt. He also carries an imposing stomach.
   We continue to talk about nothing in particular until one by one the group starts to break up, each man going his own way. I look at my watch and see it is almost half past ten. So if this is any indication, they start gathering as early as eight in the morning and break up some time between ten and eleven.
As he leaves JJ's, Greg tells me, "Be sure and come back tomorrow, Chuck. It's a good group of guys, and we meet every day. You'll fit right in."And I think, Yes, I hope I do. 
   This is a good group of guys.
Read Chapter 4 Tomorrow