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The old man sat with his back to me, hunched over a martini, kibitzing with his wife at a small Italian bistro in Mankato, Minnesota. His balding head, his cane nearby, the brace on his leg; I had seen him hobble in...slowly, gingerly, his body painstakingly giving up the chase after so many years.
Yet his conversation was energetic and chipper. And for some reason I was caught up in it. By "in it" I don't mean I chimed in, I mean I bent my ear.
They were soon joined by another man and woman, middle-aged and hardily welcomed by the old man. Not a couple I don't think, they pulled up chairs, flanking the old man and his wife on either side.
And the four of them talked. They talked of wineries and wines they'd tasted. They talked of vacations made and those they wished they had made...plans for the future, deeds of the past.
They smiled lots and laughed well.
I took a bite of my lasagna, sipped my wine and listened still.
A man stopped by their table to say hi. Big grins, handshakes all around. He lingered for a moment, but regretfully pushed on.
Two more people arrived, a couple to be sure this time. They rounded out the table sitting directly opposite the old man.
The group didn't miss a beat.
The waitress brought drinks and appetizers. The table was crackling with conversation. And I wondered at these people. I wondered what it would be like to know them. I wondered what it would be like to be in their inner circle.
As all great conversations do, this one wandered from topic to topic, spontaneously weaving a perfect verbal tapestry. And then the conversation turned once more.
The woman sitting opposite the old man was apparently starting a new business. I didn't catch what kind of business, but it seems it'll be opening next week.
Her face beamed with anticipation and a nervous excitement. She had been painting the walls of her new store herself.
Flitting through my mind was the hope that she had budgeted enough money for marketing. Most new business owners underestimate that part.
They all had a freshly poured glass of wine each. From my vantage point behind him I saw the old man raise his.
"A toast," he bellowed. "To you," he said, staring directly across the table, "starting a new business."
And then he effusively added, "I love people like you...entrepreneurs. Ah...the people that made America great!"
Her face flashed radiant...it was the glow of risk, excitement, fear and pride all rolled into one...the entrepreneur's Mount Rushmore of emotions.
With that, I sipped my last bit of wine, paid my bill in support of another entrepreneur, and left.
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