I was working at Peet’s today, enjoying some coffee, and listening to old tunes when an older gentleman asked if he could take the extra chair that was at my table. I told him to go ahead. Then I noticed he was going to drink his coffee and read the newspaper by the window. I offered part of the table, but he insisted it was ok. He said his own wife doesn’t trust him with coffee near her, much less her machine (computer). We laughed and went about our business. About 10 minutes later, the same man turns to me and says, “Back when I was your age there was an ad campaign for Camel cigarettes that said ‘I’d walk a mile for a Camel,’ Today, I say I’d walk a mile for some Peet’s.” I took off my earphones and told him I was ashamed for taking the train then (even though the ride was more like 4 miles). For the next hour Frank and I engaged in a conversation that went from talking about coffee to tennis to abandoned cottages in the East Coast, among other things. I was surprised when Frank told me he was 80 years old. To me, he looked more like 65. A well-spoken, articulate, retired servicemen who has spent most of his life in the East Coast, and of that a majority of it on the slopes. An avid skier who owns a house in New Hampshire just so he can go skiing 60-70 days out of the year. “I’ve been skiing since 1947; I used to spend a lot more time on the snow. I would go stay at our house in NH and just come back to visit my wife,” he said with a smile. Frank was curious to know more about home (Texas) and what made me leave. Texas is one of the few states he’s never visited - not counting his connecting flights at the DFW airport. I described what Dallas is like, what makes Austin different, and the type of people you will find. I told him it was home. “I’ve been across the country and have traveled around the world, but this is home,” he nodded, “it’s always a special place.” He made sure to tell me more about what he likes about the East Coast and places I should go see while I’m here, including touring abandoned cottages in Newport the wealthy used to own back in the early 1900s. I appreciate architecture and he said I would enjoy walking through old pieces of history. We continued to talk about our passions and our love for food, which prompted more suggestions for me. My time with Frank seemed short. He had to go home before it got too late. He does indeed live far from Peet’s, though maybe not an hour walk. I don’t know if I’ll run into Frank again, but if I do I hope to have already tried the “world’s best fish sandwich” in Marblehead and let him know my thoughts.