Along a similar vein, I was working at a company. I was pretty much the gang leader for lunch.

One day a guy shows up at a desk. I dropped by and invited him to lunch, but thinking he’d say no. There was a considerable difference in our ages. But I thought I’d be polite and social.

He thought for a few seconds and said … sure.

He had the best stories. I have good stories. He had better. He’d been a dresser for Nureyev and traveled the world. He’d taught celestial navigation at RIT. He’d raced the Bermuda race and had a lifetime winning record against Buckley.

And he was dead three months later from the cancer he had that day. I can’t remember any of the lunch gang but I can remember him.