When we sat down to dinner at Bob Evans on Eisenhower Boulevard in Harrisburg, we could hardly keep the waitress and the manager away from our table. Every five minutes they’d pop up asking if we liked the food and wanted to order something else. They pitched their homemade bread to us. But the next morning was a Sunday, and it was crowded for breakfast, Now it was almost impossible to get anyone to wait on us. We had to corral a waitress to seat us. We had to tackle one to take our order. She was in such a hurry that as she sped past our table she threw —— yes threw! —- our silverware at us. It was all we could do to catch it. I wished I’d taken a movie so I could play it back in slow motion. It would have been quite something in an athletic contest.