Back in the 70's I used to play golf weekly. My dad, one of his friends and I would drive from Brooklyn out to Bethpage State Park and meet up with my brother at 4:00 a.m. We'd "sign in" and having a few hours to kill before we'd start playing, we'd go to a diner and have a leisurely breakfast and shoot the breeze. This became a routine that lasted for about ten years.

The 80's came and my brother moved to Florida. My parents followed two years later and my dad's friend left a year after that. Having lost my "foursome" I stopped playing golf but missed all the good times, especially all the laughs at breakfast.

Fast Forward 20 years and I moved out to the Island (not too far from Bethpage). Late one night, my friend Lori and I were driving back from work and we were both starved so we stopped off at a diner. There was something very familiar about it but I couldn't place it. We sat down in a booth and I couldn't shake the feeling of deja vu and then it hit me all of a sudden. It was the same diner in which I so happily enjoyed all my golf breakfasts.

I can't explain the feeling of emotion - so many times I enjoyed the comradeship of men I loved in that place and now, some 22 or 23 years later I was sitting in the same place. The memories came flooding back and I had tears in my eyes.

So, yes, diners can be emotional.

(It turns out that this place is 2½ miles from where I now live and I visit it occasionally just for "old times sake").