Jack Foley’s birthday is tomorrow. I wanted to treat him to a birthday lunch. We were in Chinatown. Finding the restaurant that was recommended to us closed, we kept walking down Pacific Ave. At lunch time the restaurants were packed with people. You had to take a number and wait in line in some of them. Jack had a radio show to get to. We couldn’t just wander aimlessly. I ran down the street ahead of Jack and saw Yummy Yummy. It was a medium sized restaurant and they promised we’d have a seat soon.
The head waitress’ shrill voice cut through all the noises. Maybe she was trained in the Chinese opera. All the other waitresses maneuvered around the room under her directorship. They brought out selection of dim sums in little tin containers. Diner’s voices bounced off the harsh white walls, floor and ceiling. I told Jack, “It’s like your collision texts.”
I gave Jack a bag of fortune cookies for his birthday. He opened the bag and shared them with the people sitting next to us. The chocolate flavored ones were surprisingly good.
Mission accomplished, Jack drove back to Berkeley with time to spare. I took a long walk to Bart, enjoyed the warm sun and fair weather.
Jack at 72
72 Jacks
at
Maxwell
well well
(none too loose
all cool)
kick ass with pen
kudos
to who?
All 72!
