Interview with an Old Man
It was a simple diner in the southside of Metropolis. The waitress, Alice was going around filling coffee mugs of the truckers, who gathered there before returning to the road. The clanging of the chef Jay frying eggs on the griddle echoed amid the morning chatter. The faint sound of rain against the windows added to the quaint ambiance of the place.
In the corner of the diner, was a booth with a dull yellow lightbulb sitting atop it, where it flickered. Beneath it was a rather large man wearing a brown trench coat upon a business suit. He had thin rimmed glasses that sat in front of his blue eyes, his black hair kept to his head with a brushing. In his hands a pen sat, and a notepad rested upon the table in front of him. A cup of coffee steamed to the right side of his hand.
"Mister Jones, thank you for sitting here with me," the man spoke with a quietness, and comfort, though it was a bit nervous as well.
Opposite him, an old man with weathered skin sat. His plate had an open biscuit covered in morning gravy and a pair of fried eggs that were sunny-side up. His flannel shirt rested peacefully upon his shoulders, a slick wet gray raincoat hanging off the side of the booth. White hair crept beneath the newsboy cap he wore and his thick rimmed bifocals looked up, warmth sitting in his brown eyes.
"Well, Mister Kent, I would like to thank you for coming out to this little diner from way up at the Daily Planet, for little old me," the old man joked his voice raspy and hardened with age. His dentures showing just visibly about his chapped lips.
"It isn't every day you can interview a man who is one hundred years old," the reporter replied, uncapping his pen. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions, for the report of course."
"One hundred years old, boy does the time fly. Ask away Mister Kent. Though I get the feeling I know the questions."
"You get them asked a lot, don't you Mister Jones?" Clark looked up, an understanding smile appearing on his face.
"Sure do, but maybe you'll surprise me with a few. Heh."
"We'll have to see, the first one I have here is what's your secret to living so long?" the reporter questioned looking from behind his glasses.
"Well, eating here every morning since I was thirty certainly helped."
"Of course, of course. The coffee is good I have to admit."
"All jokes aside Mister Kent, it's caring. Caring about myself and caring about others. That's what got me heading to the Pacific."
"During the second World War, you mean?"
"Yes, it was a tough choice to be made, especially at the age of 20. I had just married my wife, Marie, and we were expecting a child, but the depression was hard, and America needed defending so I joined the Navy."
"The Navy?"
"Yes, the Navy. It was an experience. There were plenty of sleepless nights and worries, and boy howdy did I worry, when Jullie was born, I was out in the middle of nowhere. I spent nights thinking as we sailed and planes flew overhead, that I'd never see her or Marie again. And when we got the news that Japanese surrendered, I was over the moon. Until I realized the cost."
"The bombs?"
"Right, two cities gone in an instant. Plenty of people just like me waiting to see their wives again, waiting to see their kids again, gone."
"I see. But you went to war, you knew what that entailed."
"I did yes, but my grandpa used to tell me "try to help everyone, son." He grew up in the New West, homesteading and so forth, and I took his words to heart, cause out west it was hard livin' for a while."
"Sounds like you admired your grandpa."
"Oh, I did Mister Kent. He never had a cross word about anybody, less you pis- I mean made him angry. But even when he was angry, don't think he could hate anyone. And those summers out with him really made me the man I am today."
"I can tell, so, Mister Jones what do you think about things now and how different they are from your childhood?"
"Things now? Well, things now aren't too different from when I was a kid. There's a lot of anger in young people, some people still don't like one another, cars still drive on the road, there's sliced bread, and most importantly, there are still people that want to help one another."
"I agree with that last one."
"Yeah, as the guy that works at the Daily Planet, I'm sure you would. All those stories about Superman have to give a lot of hope."
Mister Jones leaned upon the table, pushing his plate aside to get closer to Clark. "But let me tell you a story about Superman that didn't make the paper, something that really gives me hope for the future."
"You have one of those?" Clark fumbled over his words.
"Sure do. My great granddaughter, Pamela, she was going through a rough time. She had lost her job, was going to be evicted, and despite our best efforts she wouldn't take our help. She pushed us all away and stewed for a bit in her troubles. We tried to reach out to here and she didn't listen, at all. And then she decided something that was irreversible."
Mister Jones looked down at the table, his voice beginning to tremble. "She was up on one of the towers downtown and wanted to throw herself from it, when Superman seemed to fly up to meet her. She gave him her whole riot act of problems and issues and he just floated there listening. Then, do you know what he said to her?"
"Pamela, I understand. I can't help you, not with what you're going through, but I also know how devastating someone that loses their life can be. Don't jump, there is help out there for you, and people that are willing to help you." Clark replied.
"Those exact words."
Mister Jones sat back down after that, his voice losing its shakiness. "A man who has everything, who can move faster than a speeding bullet, and is more powerful than a locomotive, too his time and talked with a girl having trouble. He admitted he couldn't save her, but there were people that could."
"I'm sure there are things that even Superman wishes he could do differently. But that moment, that's one I'm sure he's proud of."
"I'm sure you are, Mister Kent. There's a lot of MAN in Superman, you didn't have to do that, but you did."
"Me?" Clark looked surprised in a hushed whisper.
"Shh, be quiet Mister Kent. Your secret's safe with me."
Clark recoiled.
"And to answer your question again Mister Kent. To live to a hundred, and this something that you don't need to be Superman to do, is to care. Care for yourself of course, but also care for those around you. There are going to be plenty of things you want to do over but know that the choices you made make you who you are today."
"Well, thank you for that Mister Jones. This will be in tomorrow's paper."
"No thank you, for everything, Mister Kent. There are a lot of people out there that learned that lesson from yo-Superman."