Two or three days a week, I have a big breakfast at the Country Kitchen in Weymouth, a couple of miles from my office. This morning as I was settling down to my usual 3 scrambled eggs, 4 slices of bacon (done soft, Irish style) and wheat toast, I noticed a group of four people in one of the tables. Normal. Now these folks were clearly in their eighties. As the minutes wore on, I began to notice a lot of enthusiasm and involvement in their chatting. Were they strangers who had met only 4 days earlier? Or have they been neighbors for the past 4 years? Or have they been friends for the past 40 years?
Having come off several first dates in the past few months where the attention span of my dates had been miniscule, and disparate attempts on my part to start a conversation with utter strangers, I was starting to find the camaraderie amongst these folks infectious. I had to fight back an urge to get up, walk over, introduce myself and steal some of their moment. Instead I finished my meal, took one last look at them and left.
Note: With this posting, sarcasm week officially closes.
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