I suspected he was about 70 years old. Later, when we stopped to chat, he corrected me — more like 85.
He was on his nightly constitution here — his ocean walk.
The same walk, each night, every night — he tells me for 62 years. Rain or shine.
Walking the same path myself, this night in Monterey, California, I could see the draw: stunning vistas, stunning sunset.
"Makes you forget that concrete trap of Manhattan, doesn't it," he asked me.
Momentarily, I assured him. I told him he was one lucky fella.
It turns out though, he wasn't entirely lucky: His wife of 53 years had passed away last fall, and the kids are scattered all over the country.
Still, he has friends and memories and pictures — he shows me a few this night.
Says that he watches my show too. Can't figure what all the fuss about my head is about. Likes Sean Hannity. Says we both look like brothers — although Sean seems in better shape.
He winks. He smiles. He leaves.
A momentary passing in a beautiful city along the ocean on a beautiful night, where the only thing constant is the sound of the ocean. And an old man who knew its value and never forgot to appreciate it... every night.
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