I have to give this to the men in my life – in addition to making me happy, they expand my culinary repertoire. My youngest is always good for a 5-star meal, my oldest has introduced me to stuff I didn’t even know existed, and my Beloved can be counted on to drag me to out-of-the-way dives that provide memorable lunches.

So it was yesterday when a boring drive on I-5 down to Medford was briefly interrupted because we HAD to grab a hotdog in Albany. Am I glad we did.

The joint was a little shack at a dreary street corner. The proprietor, looks and temperament bearing some resemblance to Bill Murray whose portrait was lovingly pasted on the entrance door, has served sausages here for decades. The kitchen where they make the sausages is right next to the counter, a few chairs allow people to eat if they don’t want to bring the stuff home.

You compile your own condiments on a bun, with plenty to choose from, and then he puts your freshly cooked/grilled/roasted sausage on top. The selection is huge and the quality amazing, the German Bratwurst (what did you think I’d get?) matching the real thing from back when it was home.

The guy flirted, the guy joked, and was happy to explain when I asked about one of the things on his wall, a plaque applauding him on his photography in France. He had been visiting his brother-in-law there who worked as a cartoonist/graphic designer for a local newspaper. Photographs that he took of local children at a playground where picked up by the newspaper and the plaque was its thank you.

Then we got into a most interesting conversation about how it was possible to do not just street photography but photography of children many years back before all the fear over privacy or, worse, suspicions of nefarious motives, took over. Once again I met a truly interesting and thoughtful character in a most unexpected setting. I love my life.