I was in a diner having an open-faced hot turkey sandwich with tons of gravy. I do this from time to time when I feel the need to eat something hot that brings me back to the aura of family. The world is a big place. A hot turkey sandwich somehow makes me feel less alone within it. There is a certain peace and calm in warm food with gravy. As I savored my last bit of mashed potatoes, I looked around the diner at America in distress. These very tough times were apparent on the tired face of our waitress. You could hear the squeeze of a bad economy and a lingering recession in the silence of the couple at the next table and the man playing scratchers at the counter.
Across the room and seated by a window was an older gentleman. He, too, looked worn. He was eating the meat loaf special. Perhaps meatloaf did for him, what hot turkey does for me. There was nothing particularly outstanding about this old man other than his hat. It was a bright, blue ball cap that said World War II Veteran in shiny, gold letters.
Meat Loaf
I watched him carefully as he doted on his meatloaf. What had this guy seen? How had it changed his life? I thought about the beaches of Normandy and the Pacific Theatre. Did he survive the infamous rush to shore? Was he a paratrooper that dropped into a small town in Italy or France? Was he there at Buchenwald, Dachau, or Mauthausan?
I wanted to talk to him, but there was a sense of dignity in merely watching him. In those decades long before I was born, this once young man had liberated Europe from the dark horrors of Nazism. What does he still remember? What can he never forget? Does anyone ever recover from war?
No sooner had I concluded that our collective memories are short and that we walk each day in the freedom and unacknowledged sacrifice of others... than a young man got up from his table and crossed the diner. He held out this hand to the older man and said, "I want to thank you for all you have done for our country." The old man reached up and shook the younger man's hand. He smiled briefly and said, "Oh it's my hat." The young man said, "No... it's you." The old man looked down at his meatloaf and very quietly responded, "You're welcome."
It was a quiet and brief exchange but one of the more powerful moments I had seen in quite some time. Life is certainly strange, but sometimes it's also extraordinary.
The Ball Cap
Patricia M. Mahon is a native of New York and a dual US and Irish citizen. Mahon has produced award-winning poetry, music, stage plays, screenplays and a novel. Mahon has also authored over 20 original songs, writing both music and lyrics. Mahon's original stage-play with music, The Abbey Yard was produced at The Odyssey Theatre in Los Angeles in May 2000. The Abbey Yard was later adapted into an original novel. Mahon has also authored a stage play based upon a WW II diary and two full-length musicals. http://www.theabbeyyard.com and http://www.worthingtonaberdeen.com
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