Shortly after I first moved to Manhattan I was having breakfast at a diner on the west side with a friend. Small place. Maybe 12 tables. I noticed an elderly man eating by himself. He was well dressed. Sunday best, so to speak. He had spread one napkin on the table to use as a placemat, tucked another into his collar and was eating his meal. I was overwhelmed. I thought it was so incredibly sad that this man was by himself. That at this stage of his life he had nobody to spend Sunday with. Recent events in my life sparked this memory, and I have a new appreciation for how fortunate this man was. He was mobile, self-sufficient and perfectly happy to sit at the diner and read the Sunday paper. Not all of us will age as gracefully.