Things you overhear when you sip a coffee alone midday at the NY Historical Society Cafe, where the average age of patrons is roughly 91…

Lady: “My grandkids are terrible little people. So spoiled. All kids are now. Spoiled rotten, can’t do a damn thing for themselves.”

(Bites scone in shaky hand.)

Lady: “Stu died. Cancer. Terrible.”

(Reapplies lipstick.)

Lady: “What the hell is a Bitcoin?”