I was sitting at a picnic table at the neighborhood park and enjoying the spring sunshine when an older man sat down on the other side.

“How old do you think I am?” he says, pulling off his John Deere Tractors hat and bending his white head down for my inspection.

“You still have a lot of hair,” I answer evasively.

“Yeah, I do. Still play horseshoes but I don’t get the height I used to. The shoe slips from my fingers too early so I got to stand closer. But you didn’t answer me. How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t like to say. If I guess too old, you might be offended.”

“No, I won’t be offended. How old?

“Oh, seventy-two,” I respond and watch closely for his reaction.

“Seventy-nine,” he answers with satisfaction and I know I have answered rightly.

“Good for you,” I say.

He pulls a bag of peanuts from his pocket and tosses them to the resident squirrels.

“That tan one’s got two in his mouth,” I say, pointing to a particularly chubby one.

“I love squirrels. I got these nuts at the store but look how small they are and hard, too,” he says, offering the bag for my inspection.

“I bring popcorn sometimes,” I add.

“You married?” he asks.

“I was a long time ago.”

“I was married twice. I had me a boy and a girl with my first wife. When she wanted to split up, I said I’ll take the boy and you take the girl, and we did. He lives in Denver now. Called me to say he was getting married and me and my sister, we was going to drive out there but I never heard nothing. So I called him, but he didn’t call back. Something must have happened.”

“When was the marriage supposed to be,” I ask.

“Last summer.”

“Something must have happened.”

“Yep. He calls when he needs something. He hasn’t called so it must be all right.”

“Must be,” I agree.

“Before I retired, I worked at the dairy. Thirty-five years I worked there. First in the plant. Later on, I drove forklift. Better outside. Too much noise inside and when you had down time they always made you work in the coolers. Couldn’t never stay warm. That breeze today, I can really feel it,” he says pulling his jacket closer.

“I like sitting in the sun,” I volunteer.

“I guess I’m getting old now. Never noticed it till last year. Just can’t seem to get warm anymore. Look at this. See this here scar,” he says, holding out his left arm and rolling up the sleeve. “That’s where they took the vein for the triple by-pass. I got on a t-shirt, a regular shirt, a vest and this here jacket. I still feel the cold.”

“It’s a cool day,” I agree.

“I saw that Walmart got white cotton undershirts, three for $27. I don’t really need any more t-shirts but my old ones are getting tight. I’m going to get extra large this time in case they shrink.”

“If they’re all cotton, they’ll shrink,” I warn. “Look at the tags. If they have some synthetic they won’t shrink.”

“I just throw all my clothes in the washer and the white ones, they get dingy. So I figured it’s nice to have some new white ones. Is three for $27 a good deal?” He tosses a handful of peanuts to the patient squirrels.

“Pretty good,” I say.

“My feet got bigger. I got these here shoes,” he says sticking out his legs to display two glossy black feet. “I got me two pairs, just exactly the same. I wear them when I play horseshoes. When I get home, I just hose them off. No good for walking though. Don’t breathe.”

“Make your feet sweat?”

“Yeah. Can’t win.”

“No.”

“My second wife, now, I met her at the dance. Just a little thing. No more than 5 foot 2. Soon as I saw her, I liked her. Yeah, I said to myself she’s the one for me and I followed her around till she married me. She could dance, too.”

“Hmmm.”

“Yes, sir, she was just about perfect. She never finished school, you know. I liked that about her. Didn’t never want a woman smarter than me,” he says with a sideways glance. “Women today they want too much. They want men to be able to do everything.”

“It can be hard,” I agree.

“Getting too old for a lot of things now,” he says with a sigh as he tosses the remains of the peanuts. “Too old to start over. Too old to move. Too old to get married again. I watch some TV but I can’t stay home for long. Get restless. Go out to eat most days.”

“I think I’ll be getting on home now,” I say, rising from the table and rubbing my left knee to get the joint moving.

“Going out to eat?”

“No, I always eat at home,” I reply as I head towards the parking lot. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime,” but when I look back he is already gone.