On my way back from getting my hair bobbed and crimped, I stopped at The Dearing Drive-in for a hamburger. I love that place! Their hamburgers are so tasty--the way I remember them when I was a kid in the 60s. It's in an old building that looks like it was originally built as a Tas-t-freez.
Nothing about its humble origins has been updated, which makes it all the more alluring to me.
A lone picnic table under the front awning offers the only available seating, and all orders are taken at the walk-up window by right friendly folks. An air of mystery pervades the transaction while the ancient sliding screen is in place.
But that may just be me seeing things through my Catholic lens.
After I placed my order I turned and saw that the gentleman who ordered before me had sat down on one end of the table, on the side closest to the road.
I considered sitting down on the other bench, so that I would be facing the building with my back to him to wait for my order.
Chastising myself, I decided to engage him in conversation instead.
I figured I couldn't complain about the disintegration of society if I didn't even make an attempt to talk with this fellow under such easy circumstances.
So I sat and greeted him, and soon we were chatting amicably while we waited for our orders. He explained to me all about the garbage company he drives a truck for. I had no idea there were so many types of dumpsters and garbage trucks.
When I admitted this to him, he surprised me by saying that he didn't know it either until recently. "I've only been working for this company for five months," he admitted smiling. "I lost my job, But some people get angry when I talk about it."
I grinned and assured him that I would not get angry.
His face lit up. "I was a pipeliner. My wife and I traveled all over the country in our 5th wheel. But Biden put an end to that," he explained matter-of-factly.
I detected no resentment in his voice or expression. In fact, he seemed almost jolly--happy to talk about driving the garbage truck, how busy he and the other drivers are, and how far afield they travel from their home base on their routes.
"Ah, I see." I told him smiling. "My husband works for the refinery here."
He returned my smile and mentioned one of the contractors at the refinery that is also one of the garbage company's customers.
"YES!" I thought. We can talk about hard things and not lose our composure. I wanted to hug him but restrained myself. (This new-found restraint is one of the gifts of my dotage.)
The clerk at the window hollered that the pork sandwich was ready, so my new friend retrieved it and sat down again. I commented that the sandwich didn't look big enough to maintain a man. He smiled and said that he usually didn't eat breakfast or lunch. "When I started doing that I lost 30 pounds," he exclaimed happily.
"Wow!" I thought to myself. "He's an intermittent faster, too. What a super cool fellow!"
The clerk announced that my double cheeseburger was ready, so I wished my new friend a good day and thanked him for the conversation, feeling enormously grateful for his company.
I hope I see him again. I want to ask him to tell me some stories from the time when he and his wife were traveling around the country towing their 5th wheel.
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