Oh Adam, if I could I would put you in my pocket and take you home.

Young, interesting, funny and not yet tinged by that thing we call love. He’s old enough to be out on his own, to go to college and to have solid dreams. He wants celebrity, to take his team, his country to the global stage and I support his plan!

He finally cut his hair and gosh he’s super proud of it.

“You remember?”, he quizzed me not letting me answer, “I had long hair, so long that when I put my hat on I had horns!”

And he demonstrated to me just exactly what hair horns looked liked. Clenching both fists and holding them just below his hat line.

He laughed and excitedly removed his hat. He had a twinkle in his eye and he shouted with glee only a 20-something, pure-hearted young man could, “I have Mafia hair! My hair is still long on the top, see”, and using his left hand he swept the long bangs diagonally across his forehead.

He was so happy, interested in living, the best way to describe him is he was ecstatic to “shoot-the-shit” with whoever walked through the door. And that my friends is exactly what we did that I almost didn’t finish my “smoothered-in-ketchup” cheese dog before it got cold.

I wanted to squeeze his cheeks, encourage his self to stay young, stay spontaneous and free, to continue talking to the motley of strangers that will cross his future path and to keep on smiling with his eyes.