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Beautiful II
By gartenfische | November 21, 2007
Linda posted a video on her blog about the Seva Cafe in Ahmedabad, India, where diners donate toward the next guest’s meal. As Anjali Desai says in the video: This world is one family. Desai believes in, and the Seva Cafe is based on, paying it forward.
Which reminds me of . . .
When my daughter was about eight years old, we would sometimes have dinner at a not-so-fancy, but not divey, Italian restaurant called Cappuccino’s. At the time, she was in third grade at the Waldorf school—this is when we discovered her gift for music (at Waldorf, all kids play an instrument in third grade; at her school, the choices were cello or violin; we had a violin from the olden days when I “played,” so that’s what she played too—it was a decision based on economics).
We were in the habit of stopping at Cappuccino’s after her violin lesson. The lessons happened to fall on “spaghetti night,” so we would order the spaghetti special, with garlic bread and salad, and I would indulge in a glass of wine (single-Mom-dom deserves a glass of wine—actually, mom-dom does).
On one of those nights, we were chatting and laughing, having a lovely mother-daughter time, and I noticed a couple of men sitting nearby. One of them was Native American, around forty, with long hair pulled into a pony tail and braided. He was wearing cowboy boots and jeans. You could say he looked weathered, like he’d been around a few blocks. Weathered, not jaded. He seemed especially friendly, but I can’t say why now. He didn’t flirt, but he did glance over at us occasionally. Anyway, I speculated about this guy and his friend—I had the impression they were in town for work but probably didn’t live here. Again, I can’t say why I thought that.
He and his companion finished their meal and left before we did.
We took our time—plus I tend to drink slowly—and went up front to pay our bill. When I asked for the check, the waitress said that “the Indian gentleman” had bought our dinner. I was stunned—this doesn’t happen. It simply doesn’t happen. A single woman by herself—maybe (but then the man wouldn’t leave without extracting a thanks and a phone number).
He had told the waitress that my daughter and I reminded him of his wife and their daughter out enjoying a meal together.
Maybe he also noticed I didn’t wear a ring and suspected that buying our meal would be a great boon (it was—I didn’t get child support and didn’t make a lot of money, so twenty bucks meant something). How I wish I could’ve thanked him. This was truly a selfless gift, where the giver doesn’t even get a thank you—no recognition, just the knowledge that he’s done something kind for another human being.
This is how beautiful people can be.
It was like a kiss from God. How else can God kiss us, except through one another?
I have wondered about him, been thankful for him, over and over all these years. So I say thank you here, though it’s unlikely he’ll ever know.
So . . . for Thanksgiving, a food story that holds a lot of gratitude for me.
I am not unaware of the irony in the fact that my Thanksgiving story is about a Native American. They don’t have much to thank us white folk for. And yet, here he was giving me a beautiful gift. We truly are one family.
Linda recently posted about the Pretty Bird Woman House women’s shelter on the Standing Rock reservation in South Dakota. Please go to their blog, they are doing beautiful work. Violence against Native American women is is an epidemic that must be stopped.
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Happy Thanksgiving!
Topics: life |
November 21st, 2007 at 1:53 pm
This is a beautiful, beautiful story. I got chills as I was reading. Wouldn’t it be amazing if the news reported stories like this instead of the fearful tales they manufacture. The world would be a completely different place. Thanks for sharing it.
November 21st, 2007 at 3:15 pm
Very nice story…so you know what you should do don’t you garten??? pay it forward…that is..when it spurs you and you really feel it, do the same for someone else that you think might need “a kiss from God” or someone that just reminds you of your wonderful Native American man.
Thanks for the story, it truly is wonderful.
November 21st, 2007 at 3:35 pm
Wonderful story.
November 21st, 2007 at 6:24 pm
Painter, Yes! We always hear the stories that instill fear in us. There are lots of stories about the beauty of humanity—more than there are about the ugliness—we just seldom hear them.
GG, Writing this brought to mind the same idea. At the time, I had intended to “pay it forward,” but didn’t do it and then forgot that was my intention. I’ve got to do that! (Of course, I’ve done other things, just not intentionally with that man in mind, which I need to do.)
YM, Thanks my dear!
November 21st, 2007 at 9:21 pm
Garten, thank you for this beautiful story. Reading that you rand your daughter reminded the man of his wife and daughter is so sweet. What a kind, hidden thing to do. I love this story on the eve of Thanksgiving.
November 23rd, 2007 at 2:48 pm
What a gorgeous story- really lovely. As if the imagery of you and your daughter enjoying your meal were not enough, then the dinner being paid for.
That is beautiful indeed.
Just.
Like.
You.
Peace.
November 23rd, 2007 at 4:23 pm
Thank you for sharing this story. I had forgotten this until I read it: Once, several years ago, my son and I were in line at our local Whole Foods. He wanted something… I forget what it was, but it was incidental (like special cookies for his school lunch, or something like that). I didn’t have much cash on me that day and was buying some essential stuff, so I said “Nope. Not today.” He’s a good kid, used to a lean, single-parent household with a mom who is a yoga teacher and part-time student, and he didn’t complain. When our turn to pay came, I apologized and explained to the clerk that the cookies would need to go back, but she put them in the bag and said the woman in line ahead of me had already bought them. I was both touched and a little embarrassed. I wasn’t destitute . We would have picked up the cookies on another trip. Still, it was a sweet gesture that I’m sure made the giver feel even better than it did us. I don’t have the faintest idea who she was because I wasn’t paying attention (there’s a lesson, right?) and she was gone by the time I found out what she had done. I guess this is where I get to say “thank you” to her.
November 24th, 2007 at 3:46 pm
Fran, Thank you, and peace, my friend.
Suzi, Great story! Yes, I’m sure she felt good—what a lovely thing to do. It would’ve been different, of course, if she had turned to you and offered to buy them; doing it secretively, like our man did, made it a true gift.
November 27th, 2007 at 2:43 pm
How sad it is that beauty and kindness aren’t news, and how grateful I am that you shared this story. Thanks.
November 27th, 2007 at 4:04 pm
Cunning, thanks so much, I’m glad it meant something to you. :)