Wings

Slowly Fred climbed the stairs into the restaurant. At the landing, the host greeted us and promptly seated us in a private booth. Dangling bead strings adorned the doorway. As I stood gazing at the gold and red brocade wallpaper, I realized that Fred was still quietly standing there too. My eyes shifted to his face. I saw the joy glide across his face.

"This is the booth," he stated with purpose.

I waited. I knew he was entranced in a memory.

I smiled. I watched as his eyes twinkled brighter and brighter.

Finally, I asked, "The booth?"

"Yes, this is the booth where I met Emma."

He paused and studied my face.

Continuing the story, he said, "Back during the War, the Chinese across California raised money for the war by hosting dances in their communities. My buddy and I had already been to a couple dances in smaller towns, but on this day San Jose was hosting the dance. We had come down early to scope out the situation. We just happened to stop here for a bite to eat and make our plan. Emma was our waitress."

He let this information sink in.

"She was real friendly and we started chatting. Eventually she asked if we were going to the dance. I told her I would go if she would go with me. She left quickly after that, but when she came back she tried to sell us tickets again. I persisted in our banter, telling her I couldn't buy a ticket unless she would go with me. Eventually, she came back and asked me if I really was serious. I told her I was. Finally she said yes. I bought the tickets."

"I am really not sure I was that serious, but she was real pretty."

So the young couple went to the dance.

The boy came back the following weekend...and the next...and the next...and the next to see the sweet, pretty girl whose kindness bubbled out of her.

Until (insert suspenseful music) her father cornered him. A bit abrasively, he demanded, "Are you working?"

After the surprised Fred affirmed he did indeed have a job at Mare Island as a pipe fitter, the next question came, "How much money do you make?"

Obediently Fred responded, and the conversation ended as abruptly as it began. Evidently he was satisfied with the answers and the weekend visits continued.

Within six months, the young couple was married.

The romantic in me drifted back seventy years in disbelief that it all started right here in the booth where I was listening carefully to the story unfold. As I sipped my green tea, I could almost see Emma step through the beaded doorway.

"Life is unpredictable."

It certainly is Fred, and as you approach 96 years of wisdom I appreciate your affirmation and reminder to enjoy the little moments...the ones that make your eyes twinkle.

Our memories give us wings.