Capital Gains

I noticed this gracious man, chatting with one of the restaurant workers. He catches my eye because he randomly shouts out the name of a State, and then someone from the other side of the room will yell out the corresponding Capital. Funny. Reality TV-like.
"Vermont!", he says.
"Montpelier!", she responds.
"Oregon...!"
"Salem!"
"Montana...."
(pause)..."HELENA!"
Then there's a long pause because he see's that I'm paying attention. I'm a new audience to this impromptu sitcom-in-the-making. I'm also slurping my bowl of chicken barley soup.
"You wanna play?", nodding to me from his table. He orders the Lentil soup. "These girls get tired of me after awhile..".
"Sure", I say. "But I don't know if I'm as good as I used to be on this stuff."
"OK - here you go - NEW HAMPSHIRE!"
(I pause, but pausing's a good thing. I just booked a women's retreat in NH, so I know this..)
"Concord".
"Good! See? You're good at this!" (actually he said, "at dis,"), then he laughs.
"No, I cheated. I just talked with a gal from New Hampshire yesterday, so it's fresh in my mind."
"Yeah", he says. "Not a whole lot is fresh in my mind these days. But that's why I play this Capital game. I don't think the girls here like it much when I do it, though."
I smile. Then I get the "look" from one of the waitresses, shaking her head and mouthing quietly to me, "He comes in here all the time and does this stupid little game with everybody. Hope he's not bothering you...".
That would be no. He's not bothering me at all. In fact, I now take the intiative..
"Maine!", I shout out loudly.
(silence) Everybody in the restaurant looks at me..
Then my elderly friend says, "Uh oh, that's a toughy. I sometimes get all those New England states mixed up. Wait a minute, I'll get it........  (long pause) (I wait)
"Augusta!", he shouts.
"YAY!", I respond and clap. "You got it!" Now both waitresses walk away and shake their heads at us.
Then he says, "Do you know that the nickname for Maine is the Pinetree State? Did you know that Maine is the number one producer of blueberries in the US? Did you know that about 40 million pounds of lobster is caught yearly off the coast of Maine? (I'm getting set up here..) "Did you know that Augusta is the most eastern capital in the US?"
"Wow. You sure do know a lot about Maine, and here - I thought we were just playing a capital game."
He looks down at his soup, and kind of mumbles to himself, "Yeah, that's what I thought too, until you brought up Maine. I like Maine. A lot. Haven't thought much about Maine until today."
I get up from my table, smile at my new friend and thank him for a wonderful conversation. As I got to the register to pay my bill, I hear him yell from the back of the room...
"Tennessee!"
(I shout back, turning my head) "Nashville!"
Then his quieter voice says, "I figured you should know that one - I saw the tag on your car. You don't talk like somebody from Tennessee."
"I'm from Jersey."
"That figures."
"And you don't talk like somebody from Virginia either."
"Yeah, I know. I grew up in Maine......... HEY - VIRGINIA!"
"Richmond!" 

What a capital conversation. I had everything to gain. Nothing to lose.

She Didn't Disappoint

"I'd be glad to help you", she said to the old man, as he was struggling to put groceries in his car.
"Thank you so much. I didn't even ask you", he said.
The elderly gentleman stands there with a forced smile on his face and a half step away from losing his balance. He waits patiently for his new gal friend to help him load his three bags of "what older people buy". You know - mustard, a beef pie, four frozen dinners, a half gallon of milk, BenGay. I'm assuming...

"I'm just not able to bend over so much anymore. It's my back", he informs.
"Listen", she says. "You're not alone on that one! I'm younger than you. But boy, my best bending-over days are almost gone!"
They both laugh.

I'm watching this grocery parking lot episode of The Good Samaritan Part II unfold right next to me and I'm hoping - just hoping - that it doesn't end there. I feel like a hidden cheerleader, encouraging from the sidelines,
"GO girl GO! GO girl GO! Go for it. Ask him! Don't just load his groceries in his car! Surely, with your wit and quick response, you've done this before. C'mon, girl! Don't disappoint me!"

I roll down my window a little, just to get a better listen..

I watch her pause after loading his bags. She looks like she's ready to say something. She helps him get in his car. He smiles back with a wide grin and says,
"Thank you, daughter. You're way too kind to me."

She freezes. I think the word daughter gets to her. Then, she says it. (I jump up and down! Well, not literally, but my heart and stomach does!) I see her mouth move with the very words my own script would say for her.
.
"Thank you, dad. Do you mind if I call you dad? You see, my pop died a few years ago and I've been searching for a new one. I think you'd do just fine."

I can't see his reaction but it appears like he's wiping his eyes. She gets her purse, pulls out a pen and tears off a piece of her grocery receipt and writes something. She hands it to him and says,
"Look. Here's my cell phone number. Call me any time you need something. Promise? OK. Good. Helping you is as good for me as it is for you."

She bends over and hugs him good bye, then waits and watches him drive off. I think she sees me looking, so I turn away. The woman gets in her car, sits there for a few minutes, holding the steering wheel just staring out through the windshield. Then she turns on the ignition and drives off.

I, on the other hand - the witness - sit there on the lot for an additional ten minutes. I too am staring out the windshield and holding on to the steering wheel. I can't move. I feel like I just witnessed a sacred space of pavement, a special connection between two people in a loading zone. It's surreal alright. I take a deep breath. Then I grab my purse to get my keys. And that's when I find the other half of the torn grocery receipt.



Story-telling. A dream of mine.