Hey --Ya Gotta Eat

Yesterday one of my partners, John, was about to leave for lunch with me, when he realized he had a bunch of stressful tasks he needed to complete first.  But then he decided to have lunch first, because, he said to me with a laugh, "Ya gotta eat."

That phrase has special meaning to me, because of the context I heard it uttered, years ago.  Paul and I were both working for a firm run by Ed, one of our life's mentors.  Ed had made TONS of money, and lived very well. He was a true gourmand -- he loved his fine meals -- and each day he treated all of us to lavish lunches.  We didn't run to the local cafeteria -- no -- Ed took us to the area's finest places.  Anytime someone suggested we venture even farther afield -- maybe the Gables or Grove -- Ed smiled and happily complied.

He would also treat the whole firm to extravagant Christmas parties. Each year, he'd put on a Santa suit, and give out gifts to all of the staff, after they sat on his lap. Of course, this was long pre-Weinstein days, and although this sort of thing would never pass muster today, it wasn't creepy, somehow. Ed was into planes, yachts, luxury travel, and fishing and hunting -- he never was a womanizer, so his little Xmas fantasies seemed harmless enough.  Plus, the bonuses and gifts were very generous.

After the gift exchange, we'd go out to some top flight lunch.  Typically the venue was Vinton's in the Gables, or maybe St. Michel -- always awesome, with top drawer champagne, and delicious food.

Well...one year, the firm wasn't doing very well, and we lawyers and the business manager Dolores had a meeting -- probably late November. Dolores announced somberly that maybe the major lunch party that year wasn't in the cards.

Ed's minority partner Frank had an idea.  Maybe the secretaries could each bring a covered dish, and the holiday party would be thus. Paul pointed out what bad taste that was -- the "girls," as we called them, had to work for us -- now, on a holiday they celebrated, Christmas, they should cook, too?

Paul had a simple solution:  maybe for the coming month, we'd dispense with the luxury daily lunches -- we could brown bag it -- and with the savings there, the big Xmas lunch could still go on.

To this day, I remember the look on Ed's face.  Paul was suggesting to our gourmand boss that a major daily pleasure of his should be curtailed?  But what Ed said, simply, was "Hey -- ya gotta eat."

We laughed, because we understood quickly he was saying -- hey -- maybe YOU can do without the daily great lunch, but not me, buster.

Years later, whenever Paul and I would discuss maybe foregoing some luxury, the other would say "Hey -- but ya gotta eat."  And we'd laugh, but we'd also remember the wisdom of Ed.

Paul recalled a trip to New Orleans, where Ed had the finest hotels and restaurants, in that finest restaurant city.  Paul asked Ed about affording all the luxury, and Ed replied "Paul -- you can't afford to NOT live like this."

In other words, life is short and precious, and if you don't go for the best you can afford, you're a fool.

Well, yesterday we DID go to the cafeteria.  But John had his lunch, and so fortified, went about his tasks.

I think about the wisdom of Ed all the time.