The deaf old man in Ernest Hemingway's A Clean, Well-Lighted Place is a relatable character for many of us, especially those who live alone. In Hemingway's story, the old man lingers in a café until the early hours of the morning. His nightly presence sparks a conversation between the two waiters -- one older, one younger -- revealing contrasting attitudes toward loneliness and human connection.
When people find themselves alone, without family close by, they often turn to friends. But when friends are busy with their own lives, a solitary place of refuge -- like the café for the old man -- becomes a sanctuary. In these quiet places, one can collect his/her thoughts and reflect on life's uncertainties.
The contrasts between the two main characters of A Clean, Well-Lighted Place depict two types of people -- the compassionate and the unsympathetic. The younger waiter is always in a hurry to go home to his wife after work. At one point, he even becomes rude to the old man and refuses his request for another brandy. His priorities are different because he is young and has the comforts of home waiting for him.
The older waiter, on the other hand, is patient and understanding, not only toward the old man but toward people in general. Perhaps it's because he, too, lives alone and has reached a point in life where he no longer feels the need to compete or chase after things. No loved one waits for him at home. He has only his job and an awareness of life's quiet emptiness. "Nada," according to him.
Often, it's only when people have experienced loneliness themselves that they learn to be truly sympathetic to the needs of others. Hence, the older waiter's statement: "Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be someone who needs the café." He works diligently to keep the place clean and inviting, so that it can provide comfort to anyone who seeks it.
Often, it's only when people have experienced loneliness themselves that they learn to be truly sympathetic to the needs of others. Hence, the older waiter's statement: "Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be someone who needs the café." He works diligently to keep the place clean and inviting, so that it can provide comfort to anyone who seeks it.
Loneliness carries a peculiar ache. Coming home to an empty house highlights what’s missing more than what remains. The familiar furniture and quiet rooms become constant reminders of absence.
Perhaps this is why some people seek out cafés, parks, or other well-lit spaces at night -- not to find cheap amusement, but to escape their solitude, to soften the edges of grief, and to wear themselves out until sleep comes more easily in an otherwise empty bed.
