November 11th, 2022. I wandered into one of my favorite cigar lounges today—Cesar’s on 5th Street in Downtown San Diego. Walked in just after 5:30 with the sun setting behind me in the crisps of Autumn. Peeled open the smooth-swinging door to the humidor to try and find myself a fine Padron (which they normally never have). To my genuine surprise, they’d stocked just one, the ‘64 anniversary Maduro, and my fellow patrons had left 3 for me to comb over. I grab one up, the darkest and neatest of the three remaining, and order myself a cold tequila soda at the bar to wash it down. It’s been a long, successful week after all. The tender (Alexis I think) lights me up and I wander out to the patio with my loot, grab a corner seat with a table, and sink into it with a sigh. Eyes closed in perfect ecstasy I take a long, smooth pull of that flawless ’64 Padron, and follow it with a cool wash of tequila, soda, and ice. Good God, what a moment… Sun casting in for the night, thick Maduro smoke on the air, tequila slowly warming my belly, I look around at the jolly, Friday night bustle of 5th street. Fine-looking gentlemen, tall in their boots and hats, their ladies arm-in-arm, clicking along in their heels & skirts. Kiddos chasing each other with a laugh, on the hunt for nothing more than something sweet, or fun, or wondrous. The street band on the corner, jazzing for coin, or for not a damn thing at all, should they be so lucky. It’s all here, in the golden dims of 5th St. I take in another slow drag and cool sip, and after a few more scans over the nightlife, I notice this young fella standing feet-planted outside the fence of the lounge, eyes glued to the Celtics vs Knicks game on the TV inside. Clearly, a Celtics fan, cheering in a “sorry to bother you” kind-of silence. From outside the fence… All he had on him, this fella, was a grocery bag full of clothes (neatly folded I noticed), a blank, tattered hoodie, some ripped jeans (3 sizes too large), and some old Jordan Dunk sneakers (also nicely kept I noticed, his pride and joy no doubt). He was clearly homeless and younger than me, which really broke my heart. Me, sunk into a comfortable chair on the patio of this fine cigar lounge, chewing the most perfect Padron you never saw, smoke rolling off suede, fingers full of rings, belly full of ice cold tequila… Him, planted there outside the fence, cheering in a hushed kind-of silence with a choked-off smile—one I could tell was robbed of its joy too many times to let be. I let our moments be their own for a small while-about. I just sat there, non-obviously observing him from time to time. After a while of hearing him cheer under his breath from outside that forlorn fence, I got tired and sad of the whole thing and wandered back inside the den. “Alexis, do you have a moment?” “Sure hunny, what can I getcha?” (In her cool, sweet, bartender charm). “Listen, there’s this young fella planted outside the fence here on this side cheering for the Celtics game in here. I can tell he hasn’t seen a room in a while, he looks harmless… Would you mind if I invited him in to watch the game?” “I don’t see a problem with it, but he’ll have to buy something love.” “Sure, I’ll take care of that, let me go talk to him. Thank you.” I wander back out onto 5th street, hopeful in my boots, and stroll up to him (still in a trance over his game). “’Scuse me partner, but I noticed you watching the game from out here, why don’t you come inside and enjoy it properly?” “Oh, uh…” (Clearly nervous and unsure), “You must be the owner!” He says, in a warm, genuine kinda way. “Haha! Me?? No sir, just here for a smoke & a soda and noticed you out here. You want to come in for a drink or something? It’s on me.” “Oh, well… No, they won’t let me in there” (he scans his outfit and grocery bag), “and I don’t really smoke or drink…” “Ah, no worries, come on in and let me get you a water then, you should enjoy the game.” “Well… alright man. Thank you.” So back in I go, with him behind me—shy and unsure about all this still. I get him a cold water from Alexis and hand it to him in the main room, “make yourself at home brother, looks like the game’s all yours.” And the look he gave me in return, I’ll just never forget… Eyes big as pool balls (but clearly trying not to be), hands both cradling his grocery bag and cold water (like it’s the only one he’s ever had), shoulders curved in so as not to take up too much space in this unfamiliar room… Grateful. Confounded. Uneasy, yet overjoyed. Pleasantly confused. Erupting in excitement, but not as to let anyone know… “Thank you.” It was truly the most perfect “Thank You” I’d ever heard. With a smile, I patted him on the arm, like guys do, and left him with, “enjoy the game, my friend.” And turned away. I tipped my cap to Alexis and walked back out to my seat on the patio… With a sigh of contentment, I sunk back into my chair with my cigar and took another look around 5th street. I poured back the rest of my tequila in a gentle rush of… satisfaction, I guess. And from the depths of what felt like nowhere and everywhere, I nearly burst into tears. From outside, I could see him through a small crack in the doorframe and the window—sitting at the edge of his seat, watching his game with eyes & a smile like he stood in front of Jesus himself. I must’ve looked insane, spying on him through the glass. I tried my best to keep it held together and be nothing but grateful and cheery. But one tear I just could not detain… rolling down in smoke over suede. One tear, for everyone unfamiliar with something so simple as a warm room and a chair. One tear, for a world growing, perhaps, too estranged from random human kindness. One tear, my profound thanks for being lucky enough to experience a moment like this. One tear, for all the miracles I’ve received that I know all too many may never see. One tear… that today, I got the chance to be one. “You deserve it”, I whispered with a whimper. And off into the night I went Never to see that young fella again… The fella outside the fence. If there’s one wish I could have for you today, it’s to spend today (at least one day) not worried or waiting for a miracle to happen to you… But to at least try to go be one for somebody else. Lord knows there are plenty that could use one and, who knows… Maybe a hundred more will come back your way. With a warm & grateful heart, your neighborhood lighthouse keeper, -Emery Thanks for reading Letters from Emery. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit lettersfromemery.substack.com
