The five of them were in their usual place this Tuesday afternoon.  They had finished eating long ago and now they were once again solving the problems of the world… and flirting with Flo.  Flo had been their waitress now for as long as she worked at the bistro.

As she checked on them for the third time that afternoon, she could hear Jacob lecturing to the group. He had stood up to ensure that he had the full attention of his group.

“You tell me?  I should think you would know better than to tell me?” He spoke with his usual thickly accented, Jewish dialect. “It comes from the Yiddish term ‘kol b’tzedek.’ It means “all is in order” you shmuck… you should tell me! Can you believe this guy?” 

Jacob's right hand pulled at his beard. “It’s what the Jewish shopkeepers would say" he went on.  "If you asked them, ‘how things were going’ they would always say ‘kol besedeq’ which means, ‘all with justice.’ Believe me, I should know.  This guy, what a shmuck.”

Laughter all around the table as Jacob got the desired result that he was looking for by lambasting his old friend. Jacob was nodding his head in satisfaction as he stroked and tugged on his beard, as if he’d accomplished a vital mission.  The man was rail thin, with an unruly grey beard and a shiny bald head. It had long been apparent that he simply could not speak without playing with his beard as he did so. 

Fat Remy was pointing at him through his laughter.  “You gonna need to sit youself down cha before you fall down.”  Fat Remy at 89 years was actually older than the 85 year old Jacob, but his rotund features seemed to hide the lines in his face to the extent that his age was not immediately obvious. The Cajun spoke slowly in a deep, gruff Louisiana blend of English and patois.  

“What de fuzzy toothpick is referring to is actually ‘coupersétique.’  He try to sound very knowledgeable, but he don’t know.”  Tears were running down his face as he gathered himself to set the record straight.  “It is French Creole in origin, and means “able to be coped with” … like we have to cope wit his mouth over and over and over agin.”  

This time the renewed laughter was accompanied by heavy coughing which gradually caused the laughter to subside.  Flo went over to Julius who was still struggling to catch his breath, while smiling at the pleasure of still being in the company of his dearest remaining friends.

She heard a wheezy whisper from Tutti Paul as he took advantage of the momentary silence to be heard.   “I don’t know why our dear friends would have so much to say with so very little information at their disposal.”  The group grew quiet so that they would not miss anything that Tutti Paul might say.   Whenever the former Italian City Inspector rose from his sick bed to join them, it was a truly blessed day.  Nevertheless, everyone knew that he did not have many Tuesday afternoons left with them.  

“All men of learning and wisdom would certainly know that this was initially an Italian term.   I believe the word is “copacetti” but please… do not quote me.  I cannot spell it… but the Italian ancestry of the word speaks to me loudly.”

More conversation erupted, with everyone speaking all at once.  Jacob’s voice, was once again the loudest among all of the elderly companions.   Then Fat Remy, raised his thick sausage-like arms to quiet the group.  He then turned to Julius, who had recovered and was sipping the glass of iced tea that Flo had brought for him.  

He now grinned broadly as he turned his empty, sightless eye sockets around the table.  His long brown, pianists’ fingers pointing in the direction of his friends for emphasis as he spoke.  “I knew it was just a matter of time before you came to me for the answer.”  He had the smooth and sultry voice of a far younger man.  Julius was a lean, handsome man for his age.  People often said that he looked like Morgan Freeman will look in another twenty years, with the exception of the ruined empty sockets where his eyes used to be.  He typically wore sunglasses at all times… except here with his friends.

Before he could continue, Flo leaned over and spoke to him gently touching him lightly on his shoulder. “Cooper’s back Julie.”

“Thank you darlin,’ he responded warmly, squeezing Flo’s hand in his.  Cooper was his young grandson who routinely brought him to his Tuesday circle of friends and then returned later to pick him up after a few hours.   He knew that Cooper would now be sitting at the bar chatting with Flo, or Riley behind the counter, until the group was ready to disband for the day.   

Julius had the ability to smile when he spoke.  He was clearly smiling now as he said, “I don’t know where you people got yo’ facts, but we need to put this right.”  His grin widened as emphasized the “t” at the end of the word, “right.”  “The big guy here” he said nodding his head toward Remy, “would like us to think that everything is Creole… but we know that ain’t the case.”

He continued, “… and Paulie-Boy” referring to Tuttie Paul, “must have this confused with spaghetti, or linguini or some such nonsense.”   At this Tutti Paul laughed the loudest. 

Then Julius frowned for just a minute as he said, “… and Jacob, I don’t know what-the-fuck you’re talking about! Damn man.” At this, nearly every head in the bistro turned at the raucous laughter from the table of old men in the back corner of the room.  Julius coughed again briefly but not as much as he had before.  

“Copacetic means us my brothas.  It’s friendship.”  Julius paused for a second to let the word sink in.  “It means the kind of friendship that brings us here every Tuesday. It is something excellent and just right.”  He drew out the word “just” for added emphasis. 

“Copacetic was ‘Bojangles’ word” he said brightly.  “You won’t find that word in no dictionary.  One of the greatest tap dancers who ever lived… Ole Bill ‘Bojangles’ Robinson invented that word to tell the world… that everything was ok.   That it was better than ok.“ Jules, now very expansive in spreading his arms wide, “That it was excellent.”   

As he lowered his right hand, it inadvertently came to rest on the hand of the fifth man in their party.  This was David.   At 63 years old, David was the baby of the group and a fairly recent addition.   He had founded and sold three, successful high tech companies and was now retired, a multi-millionaire a few times over.  But he mostly listened and laughed when he joined these men on their Tuesdays.  Somehow he had simply stepped in after his father died last fall and they had accepted him warmly.  

Julius was now patting David’s hand as he continued. “Copacetic is what has allowed young Davie here to sit in with us now that the Judge is gone. Through him, a part of the Judge is still here every Tuesday… and that’s copacetic.”

“Copacetic is that new great-grandbaby you’re so proud of Remy.  The one that had you so worried, and now she is the light of your life… you fat Cajun…” laughter.   “That, my brother, is copacetic.”

“Copacetic is the fact that Paulie is even here with us today.   There were a few times that I was afraid we were going to lose you man.”  The group quieted down a bit when they heard his voice break as he said this.    

“Copacetic is my grandson there who is gonna be graduating from high school and going to college this fall.   Man…. that is so copacetic I can’t stand it.”  Their heads turned and looked at Cooper who was sitting quietly watching the group.  He simply smiled when they looked at him.  He was accustomed to being one of the topics of their conversation. 

“Copacetic is the fact that I can still see every one of you… clearly… and I don’t need my eyes to do it.  Yeah man… it don’t matter where the word came from. Everything here is copacetic.”