I just came across this old post and thought it bears repeating. My life is great, rich and full of joy, and I hope yours is as well. But laughter is good for everyone. I hope this makes you a good chuckle.
This post has only the most tenuous link to sewing. But some days tenuous is all I’ve got.
There has been a lot of illness among my elderly relatives and, sadly, a recent death. But life goes on. We accept as God’s blessing the merciful death of one and celebrate the recovery of another.
When my Uncle Richard, 92, healthy and fit, stopped by my home after visiting his hospitalized sister, my sweet Aunt Aileen, his sadness and depression were palpable. I steered the conversation to the past, leading him to talk about his career as a restaurantaeur. He and his long-departed wife spent many years as owners, managers and sometimes cooks for this restaurant.
So I told Uncle Richard……..
After teaching for seven full days at Martha Pullen’s school in Huntsville, Alabama, I was tired and eager to get home to Florida. I’m like a long distance trucker on these road trips. With 650 miles to travel alone, I make every infrequent stop count–1) gas, 2) bathroom and 3) food —then back on the road.
Somewhere near the Florida state line, I stopped at one of those huge truck stops that could pass as a mini-mall. On one side was a sub shop and a sit down restaurant. A turkey sub sounded good to me.
Directly inside the door was a sub sandwich counter and a few small tables. To the left was the large dining room of the restaurant. I waited at the unattended sub counter for a few minutes then went into the restaurant to see if I could get some help. Two or three tables were occupied with diners, but no wait staff or attendants were visible.
Tick tock tick tock…….I don’t wait well. But I called up all my patience and gave it a little longer, a total of 6 minutes from my arrival. I had my gas and bathroom break but no lunch. I needed to get on the road!
So stepped behind the counter, washed my hands, put on a pair of plastic gloves and started on my sandwich. I had the roll sliced, the condiments slathered on and had just plopped the meat, cheese and veggies on the bread when a lady came out of the restaurant shrieking, “What do you think you are doing?!?!?!”
Very calmly, I replied, “I’m making a sandwich, of course. Since no one was here to do it for me, I assumed this was a self-service shop.”
“Well, it is not!!!!!” She wrapped up my sandwich, I paid her and then sat down at a table by the entrance. The Shrieker disappeared into the sit-down restaurant’s dining room and through a pair of double doors at the back, practically in the next zip code.
Just a few minutes later, two HUGE biker guys came in–you know, with doo rags on their heads, sleeveless tee shirts, bulging arms, big ring of keys on their Levis belt loops, heavy boots. They waited just a minute then asked me if anyone was there.
Then I thought, you just have to get your laughs when and where you can.
I said, “This place is self service. I made my own sandwich. Just leave your money by the cash register.”
As they clumped back behind the counter and picked out their bread, I picked up my sandwich and walked quickly to my car. But I was laughing then and chuckled as I drove for the next 200 miles, picturing a continuation of the scenario I had left behind. I’d love to have stayed to watch The Shrieker take on those tough guys and give them what-for. But as they say, “Discretion is the greater part of valor,” though I’m not sure valor is what I was going for. Clearly, in this situation, discretion was the wiser choice.
Hearing this story, Uncle Richard laughed, too. As he guffawed and chortled some more, I could tell it had been a very long time since he had had anything to laugh about. But that day, for a little while, he did.
This YouTube video of a baby will make you laugh…..