Sprkus

Yesterday afternoon was one of those days where everything lines up perfectly, the clouds part, and the birds sing. One of those cosmic instances where everything seems perfect.

Yesterday afternoon was one of those days where Tiffany and I were craving the exact same thing for lunch.

We eat lunch together nearly every day because our offices are so close. And though normally the lunch decision is never a large complication, normally only requiring a couple volley’s of restaurant names and subsequent rejections, when the food source is perfectly aced, it’s nice. It almost feels a little special. Almost as if someone else influenced it.

Tiffany picked me up at 12:15 p.m. and we headed straight to Bob Evans, which is only a 5-minute drive. We were seated right away and decided on our orders fairly quickly.

I was torn between an open-faced barbecue sandwich and the old faithful Homestead Breakfast, but gave in to the latter. Something finally pulled me to the Homestead, a meal named after Bob’s original farmhouse in Rio Grande, Ohio. Plus, the thought of Bob’s biscuits and gravy was too much to turn down. On an especially weird turn for me, I ordered the sausage links, which made Bob Evans famous, instead of the bacon.

Just minutes later at 12:30 p.m. in Cleveland, Bob Evans, 89, passed away.

Clearly Bob wanted us to be at his restaurant when he died.

He urged us to be there, and we heeded the call.

This sausage link’s for you, Bob.