One morning more than thirty years ago, I entered the Track Kitchen, a restaurant where everyone from the humblest(±°Î¢µÄ) to the most powerful came for breakfast. I noticed an empty chair next to an elderly, unshaven man, who looked somewhat disheveled. He was wearing a worn-out hat and was alone. I asked if I might join him. He agreed quietly and I sat down to have my breakfast. We cautiously began a conversation and spoke about a wide rang of things. We never introduced ourselves. I was concerned that he might have no money and not be able to afford something to eat. So as I rose to go back to the counter and buy a second cup of coffee, I asked, "My I get you something?" "A coffee would be nice." Then I bought him a cup of coffee. We talked more, and he accepted another cup of coffee, Finally, I rose to leave, wished him well, and headed for the exit. At the door I met