Dear Jack,

I was looking through my schedule here in Eugene and noticed that I have a ticket to the final concert of the Eugene Symphony next week. That reminded me again of the old days when we were involved in attending an entire season of concerts by the San Francisco Symphony. Of course, the first item in each season was a gathering to decide on the concerts we were going to attend. We knew that Saturday night was the appropriate time for all four of us to get together and head to the City for a concert. However, we had received tickets for some concerts we would prefer to avoid — too much from those modern composers we hated. It was always a great meeting at my place to discuss alternatives — which tickets we were going to return and what tickets to get when we returned them. Once we had agreed on these decisions, the two of us always had a great day in San Francisco — over to the box office to exchange tickets and a lunch at a nearby restaurant while we were over there.

Those dinners followed by Symphony concerts were always memorable occasions — especially if the Symphony happened to be playing old classics by guys like Mozart, Beethoven, and Mendelssohn. But the events that really stick in my mind were much closer to home, at a little corner restaurant called Wendy’s. We met there so often for noon lunch, you coming from Fremont and me coming from Castro Valley to meet at Wendy’s in Hayward. First, I would spot your car in the parking lot, so I knew everything was under control. Then I would walk in and see you standing in line, waiting to turn in our order. There was no need for me to get in line, since I knew you had it under control. Rather, I would go to one of those tables we particularly liked, probably one identified by your jacket on the back of a chair. There I would sit, waiting, until you would arrive with our order – maybe some variations for you but always the same order for me. We both knew what I wanted, and it was always the same thing. And would you believe that so much time has gone by I can no longer remember what it was! But I’m afraid I never thanked you properly for such thoughtful and efficient restaurant service. So many thanks, and the next time you lunch at Wendy’s, pull up an empty chair to that table. Physically, I have to be in Eugene, but mentally, I’ll be joining you for lunch once more.

And incidentally, if you can still remember what I always had for lunch, refresh my memory!

Best regards, and thanks again,

J.B., age 87