“Do you remember Andy Rooney?” Arthur asked me as he polished off the last of his oatmeal and whole wheat toast.
For the past fifteen minutes we had focused more on eating than on talking. We could hear snippets of conversation from the tables around us. The guys behind us fumed over the inability of the local NHL team to win with any consistency. The couple across the aisle worried about the falling water levels in the Great Lakes. And the two women in the adjoining booth carried on a lively chat, each on her cell phone, however, and not with each other.
I was just about to comment on the entertainment derived from simple eavesdropping when Arthur sprang the Andy Rooney question.
“You mean the guy who used to do the commentary at the close of Sixty Minutes every week?” I asked in response.