A nice evening down in Chinatown.

Last night was an unusual night for me.

Through the weird connectivity of the world we live in, and thanks to the "reach" of this humble blog, I've met a few people recently and become, oddly enough, friends with them.

Of course, these aren't just random men I pick up off the piers. They're ad luminaries of my rarefied (or ossified) vintage. 

We got together last night, in person. You know, analog.

It was just the three of us--three older men, and we broke bread, or dumplings, at one of the world's great Chinese restaurants, Joe's Shanghai, down on Pell Street.

We dubbed ourselves, "The Sons and Daughters of the Oolong Table." Our motto: To Err is Hunan.

Corny, right?

But that's how we (egg) roll.

We had no agenda. Just guys with probably 115 years of combined advertising experience. Lifetime New Yorkers. Oh, and Jewish. With, let's say, the gift of gab, and the ability to tell a story. 

Funny stories. Old stories. New stories. Red stories. Blue stories.

We laughed. And laughed some more. And pass the Kung Pao. And laughed some more.

This was our first time meeting, the three of us. But we were, quick as a wink, old friends.

I once heard somewhere someone say, "I'm too old to retire."

I laughed when I heard that. And it's stuck with me. And I've thought about it since I first heard it.

Our business can be a frustrating one.

Enervating even.

But, if you're open to it, we have something nice going here in our industry. Interesting people. Funny people. Smart people. 

People you can bend an elbow with or slurp a soup dumpling alongside.

It's not always perfect, our business.

But touch wood for what we do have.

At any age, you can be too old to retire. Especially when there's too much life and love and laughter to let go.