At breakfast, Morrie and Betty knew everybody at the DWP cafeteria, where Morrie got an omelet and Betty had oatmeal. She swiped a sausage patty off Morrie's plate, put it between two pieces of toast and wrapped it in a napkin.
"That'll be for lunch," she said.
On the way back home, Betty told me she likes sitting outside the nearby Colburn School cafeteria and watching shadows fall across the patio. And she insisted we stop at just the right spot near the DWP pond to catch dappled sunlight turning a bronze sculpture into a golden sail.
"There. Do you see it now?"
Back at the condo, Times photographer Gary Friedman was flabbergasted at the quality of Morrie's 50-year-old photos from family trips to Europe, Mexico and Asia. Morrie had an eye for drama, chaos and beauty, and flipping through his black and whites was like time travel.
As for the sculpture, Morrie said he was fixing a toilet tank one day and noticed that the floating ball had pleats, like a ballerina's skirt. That's exactly what he turned it into in his very first sculpture, and over the decades, he's turned a lot of scrap metal into finely detailed works of art.
I asked if he regretted not having devoted his full attention to photography or sculpting.
"Not at all," said Morrie, who lately has been working on a treatment for a movie, even though he's never written one.
He did what he did when inspiration struck, Morrie said, adding that the daily stresses of life may have fueled his creativity at the time.
Do what you want to do when you want to do it, Morrie and Betty told me. Desire is too precious a thing to put on hold. And then move on to the next thing.