I am going to take you up west a few blocks to the corner of Asbury Ave and Main Street across from the fire station was the Asbury Diner.  I worked there on and off as a waitress from 1969 to 1972 and always on the night shift which was from 10PM - 5 AM.  There were many regulars each unique with their own stories to tell.  Every night person in the area would stop by 'The Diner' sometime during the night.

I remember one regular who would come in anywhere between 2 and 4 in the mornings.  He always seemed wasted to some degree and I wasn't sure if it were drugs and/or alcohol.  He was always soft spoken and polite and more often than not would come in alone.  A young boy, good looking, if you could look through the fog and see him.  His speech always mumbled, slurred and soft with a crocked smile when he would be gazing at the menu, unable to articulate what it was that he wanted.  But I knew what it was, as he had the same thing every time he came in like that.  He wanted eggs fried sunnyside up.  I have to say, I don't remember what else he ate with those eggs, but I remember those eggs.  I would bring him his plate and sometimes he would eat, but most times not.  He would be staring at his eggs with his head bobbing back and forth.  I knew it was time to go in the kitchen and get a clean warm and wet dish towel.  No sooner would I come back and yep...his face had fallen right flat in the middle of his untouched face,   His look was one of confusion and embarrassment.  My towel was ready as I washed his face and his hair that had streaks of yellow yolk on it while taking the plate away.  I would help him stand, as he still looked lost...he would kind of point to his jean pocket and I would go in there and fetch the $1.37 cents that was needed to pay his check and he would be on his way.  Sometimes when you have memories from years ago, you wonder what happened to some of these people.  I have good news.  That young man is doing well today, but I have no idea if he still likes his eggs sunnyside up.  

I never minded waiting on his table and I was usually the one who did, as the other waitresses hated to not so much because of the mess but because he never tipped a dime.  I must have waited on him a couple of hundred times.  A tip back then for what he had would be anywhere from 15 cents to 25 cents. 

So, today I am permanently disabled on SSD  get my food from free food pantries, get meals on wheels and live in senior HUD housing.   I am poor.  I figure this guy kind of owes me $40.00.  I know if he was not so wasted he would have tipped, he just had some poor judgment at those times.  So, if anyone runs into Bruce Springsteen, please ask him if perhaps he might want to tip me now?  I sure could use it.  Thanks, Barbara