There are a lot of Black people who participate in East Bay cafe culture. Even though I moved here from Oregon nearly 14 years ago, I still get a thrill from the number of Africans, Afro-Caribbean folks, Afro-Europeans and (of course) African American folks I run into at East Bay coffeehouses. The variety of brothers who came into Zocalo last week was one of the things that got me through the second of two very intense weeks of manuscript preparation. This older gentleman was one of several elderly Black men I noticed during my longest work days. It seemed that every time I started to feel sorry for myself (which is, in itself, a bit self-indulgent), another older Black man would enter the cafe and I would be reminded that any long life involves struggles and celebrations and lots of hard work.