Obviously, he was a happy man. He was Joe of Joe's Place, a little lunch counter I found one night. There were about a dozen stools occupied, for the most part by elderly men and a couple of older women from the neighborhood.
He set a steaming bowl of soup before an old man whose hands shook. “Mamie made it special for you, Mr. Jones.” One elderly and rather stumbling lady started to go out the door. “Be careful, Mrs. Hudson, the cars go pretty fast out there. And, oh yes, look at the full moon over the river. It's mighty pretty tonight.” I sat there thinking that Joe was happy because he really loves people.
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