It was New Year’s Eve. We’d found a comfortable place to have a cup of coffee and debate what to do with the day in one of California’s quietest cities. It was all part of the plan to have a low-key holiday in Pacific Grove.
The sky was gray and it looked like rain might be a possibility. We were dressed in muted tones consisting of black, gray and brown. Woody the black Lab was curled up under the table, blending in with the surroundings. All was calm when a neon ray of light came into view. To be more specific, it was woman, probably in her mid-60s in zebra-stripped, lime green pants, a tie-dyed t-shirt and a fur coat. My San Francisco sensibility quickly sprung into action as I prepared to hand over some spare change. But as I quickly discovered, things are wonderfully different in “PG.”
“Excuse me, have you seen an old man come this way? Brownish hair. I don’t know…maybe in his 70s?” she inquired.
We told her we hadn’t, but she continued to elaborate.
“He’s this old man I met while visiting my mom in the nursing home. Nice guy. Just an old codger. Big house. Widowed. He asked if I wanted to meet him for coffee. I was dressed real conservative that day…nice sweater, slacks…he hasn’t seen me in this…in my zebra stripes…but I figure, what the hell, right?”
I immediately liked her and asked her more about the blind date. Her concern was that he’d shown up early and left as she was running late. She didn’t have his phone number and explained that she doesn’t believe in cell phones.
As she continued to fill in the details of the backstory, I noticed a rather conservative-looking older man crossing the street with a smile on his face. Intervening without interrupting, he politely squeezed her shoulder.
“This is HIM!” she exclaimed, as he put his arm around her and they walked into the coffee shop. No goodbye. No silly promises to talk again. We decided that was the official beginning of 2018 and the positive things to come. Here’s to hoping your new year is off to a good start.