I sat down at a communal table of one of my favorite eateries. He folded his paper down a bit and mentioned how great my lunch looked. It was over the top good – a warm slice of ham and spinach quiche, a small cup of brothy lentil soup, and my indulgence of the week – a slice of absolutely the best coconut cream pie ever.

The other people at the far end of the table cowered back a bit. I made a joke for him to not eat my lunch while I went to get my fork. He smiled a four-tooth grin. Or maybe five. I’m not certain. I came back, sat down, and he was really staring at my food. No more joking. I asked if he’d had lunch yet. He stammered for words. Would you like some lunch? On me, of course. He looked shocked, still searching for words. His grin reappeared. I prompted him to the counter, and he picked out one meager slice of quiche and a cup of coffee. I asked at least three times if he wanted anything else; he said he better not. Curious, I thought.

"Hands Holding Cup of Coffee" by ~ggvic~ via Flickr

We sat down, and I introduced myself. He said, “I know.” Unbeknownst to me, I left my name tag on. I pulled it off as he smiled and said,  “I’m Larry.”* His hair – frayed and in disarray – reminded me of Einstein’s. With similar, deep facial wrinkles. Come to think of it, there are now numerous parallels between Larry and Albert Einstein. Weird. He asked if I’d like to help him with his crossword puzzle. It was almost finished. Uhm, I’m not that great at crosswords. “Neither am I,” he laughed. There was that grin again.

Larry told me he was in the bakery every day. I already knew that. I frequented the bakery at least once a week. I always smiled at him and had even slipped him some cash before. It didn’t bother me he didn’t remember me.

He had an accent so I asked where he was originally from. Turns out, Larry left Hungary during the revolution of 1956. He came to America by himself. Australia was his first choice but he knew a friend was on his way to the U.S., too, so he came here instead. He stayed in New York for a few weeks and got a crash course on English from another student. He worked in L.A. for a bit and lived with a family there briefly. He made his way to Kentucky and fully learned English there. People told him Austin was a great city, so he moved here. He barely touched his food as he talked, and I could tell others from our communal table were eavesdropping on his fascinating history.

I learned Larry is a medical astrologer and has experience with homeopathic baths. I had little to no knowledge of either before meeting him. I never would have imagined my impromptu lunch with a stranger – likely a homeless stranger based on his appearance and delicate story details – would be so wonderful. Did he look a little scary? You bet. I’m so glad the seat next to him was open, though. What a privilege to meet him. How lovely to hear his story.

*Larry is not a patient, but I chose to change his name for this post. I’ll share some of his fascinating conversation points in later posts.