I remember how weekends used to go. I'm looking at the guy in the rear table on the left. He looks to be in his early thirties with a stack of papers, a coffee and a red pen. That used to be me on weekends. My routine was to hold off until Sunday though. I didn't care much for correcting essays and tests 'on the road'. In a comfortable chair in the family room or upstairs in my office were my favorite work spaces at home. A coffee, a couple of correcting pens and some soft classical music playing were my friends. If I was tucked away upstairs for a couple of hours, I often would sneak a bowl or two of Captain Black pipe tobacco. These days that certainly would be a no-no here at this hilltop coffee shop. For that matter, my pipe has been displaced for good anyway. I do miss the 'captain'. I blame it all on my grandfather, Albert. The swirling puffs of his aromatic Prince Albert had me under a spell. Occasionally a student would complain about a small coffee stain on a paper. But no one ever came forth and declared, "Mr. N-, smell my paper. What is it?" Hahaha! I miss my pipe, not the stack of papers though.