Sit down, take a deep breathe and a vacation from Mudcat Wars.

A small incident.

This afternoon, Ruth and I did some shopping and ended up in that limbo when it was really too early to eat supper (it was about 4 p.m.) but by the time we got home, too late to make it because I had to go out to practice this evening. Suddenly, the excruciatingly slow service at Friendly's seemed just what we needed. If we were waited on and served quickly, we wouldn't be hungry enough to eat. But thanks to the complete inneficiency of Friendly's it took almost a half an hour to get our food and by then we were hungry.

While we were sitting there waiting to get hungry, I noticed a man in the booth behind Ruth. He must have come in just before we did, because the waiter came over and took his order before us. He ordered a 5 scoop ice cream sundae, and the anticipation showed in his face. He looked like he was in his 80's and looked very pale and fragile. When he got his sundae, I watched him eat it, as he was directly in the line of sight behind Ruth. Talk about savoring!
He lifted each spoonful out and looked at it with great satisfaction before taking it into his mouth. I had the feeling that this was a ritual for him... something he really looked forward to. And because he was alone, I suspected that he was widowed and perhaps was carrying on a ritual that he had enjoyed sharing with his wife.
When he finally had scooped every last drop of ice cream out of the large dish, he quietly folded his napkin and asked for his check. When the waiter came over all he said to him was "That should do me for awhile." When he got up, I realized how fragile he was. He couldn't stand up straight and almost lost his balance and fell. He had to hold on to the booths to walk and was listing dangerously to one side. He finally got enough balance that he was able to hobble across the room for a trip to the Men's Room.
When he came out, it was a real struggle to make his way across the restaurant and out the door. We watched him walking to his car, concerned that he would fall over, but he made it. And I thought, "How sweet the simplest treats can be when you are old and living alone." And I knew that could be me some day. I could understand that... the pleasure of breaking up a lonely day at home by going to Friendly's and getting the largest ice cream Sundae they make. Damn the calories and the cholesterol. For a few minutes, the man could savor the time when it was just him and that big bowl of ice cream. And perhaps a one or two sentence conversation with the waiter. I didn't feel sorry for the man. Or fear that I might end up that way. There can be great pleasure in the simplest of things that we think nothing of.

Jerry