Buying lunch for my favorite veteran.

Last week my grandpa was invited to a veteran’s breakfast by some fellow vets. This was a great way for him to make some friends while spending time in NC. He needed a driver, and I was the guy for the job. We headed over around 8:15. The cafe was packed. The cafe specifically caters to vets; there are uniforms and memorabilia all around, pictures from the past, video legacies, and more. We sat at a table with an engraved marker that read, “liar’s table.” I knew it was going to be an interesting morning.

It was awesome to see these old farts interact. That’s not me picking on anyone, one of the guys at our table was wearing a hat that proudly declared he was an old fart. These guys started with a formal introduction, but that’s where the formalities ended. From there on it was all jokes and jabs, stories (both truths and lies), and looking for connections from the past. We had people from all over the U.S. sitting at the table, all from different branches of service, and from different eras.

One man wore a shirt declaring that his home state of Massachusetts had invented the United States. One guy only wanted to talk about his friend’s major league baseball tryout from 40-something years prior. The tough guy at the table was from Chicago. When he introduced himself, a Brooklyn man offered a bit of slander: “Nothing good comes from Chicago.” The tough guy responded wryly, “I resemble that remark.” Turns out, the Brooklyn man grew up in the same neighborhood as my grandpa. These two Brooklynese service members talked about the old days from their hometown, in a small cafe in the south. They had swam in the same park pool, attended the same church, and played ball on the same fields. I’m telling you, this table was full of the things that draw a smile, require a true laugh, and cause you to sit in awe.

Most everyone was wearing a hat marked with the branch they served in, full of pins telling a bit of their stories and the places they have traveled.  I spoke with one man named Top. Turns out his namesake comes from being the top dog. He served from the time he was 18 or so, up until they forced him to retire. Everyone was giving him a hard time for having been the guy who gave everyone else a hard time, and for his full white mustache. And everyone was giving me a hard time for having long hair. It was great.

After spending three hours at the cafe, sitting in on an official veterans’ meeting, listening to the community service and volunteer opportunities, hearing a message from the organization’s chaplain, and drinking 6 cups of coffee, we headed out for lunch down the road at a quaint little joint: Thelma’s.

It’s not common for my grandfather and I to get lunch together. He lives in Florida. I live in NC. Normally when he visits, it’s a short time and everyone is in one place together. Not a bad thing, but it doesn’t allow for one on one talk. Sitting with him was a treat. We didn’t talk about anything profound, just life. How the days come and go. We talked about the food, and the morning at the cafe, all the stories. We talked about getting old, and about my current disposition of, “not all who wander are lost” (credits to Tolkien). He told me I was doing right.

I noticed my grandfather had hardly touched his food because he was so excited to be talking and telling stories. He had a big grin. It made me think of how similar we are, and that’s a beautiful thing to realize. {Just 2 weeks ago I visited some friends at a BBQ spot in Greer, SC; after about an hour, I realized I still had a full plate. I was happy to be meeting and sharing. Food wasn’t the focus.} I was happy to sneak away and pay for his meal while he was in the bathroom. He was mad at me, but I just hope he knows he is loved.

Grandpa sat on the bench outside the restaurant with an older black woman while I went to get the car. She had been in the middle of the bench, but moved over to make room for him. She let him know she didn’t bite. Five minutes later when I returned with the car, they were best friends. She was telling him about the good Lord, and he was telling her he was thankful for another day of seeing green and not brown (aka he’s thankful to be above ground, not under it). They were talking about family and shaking hands. It was a beautiful picture. Her name was Jeanine. My grandpa is Gene. Jeanine told me to take good care of Gene.

We arrived back at the old folks’ home where grandpa was staying temporarily. We headed for the cafeteria to find grandma. Grandpa spoke to each of the caretakers along the walk. You could see that he brightened their day. On the way in to grandma’s table, grandpa stopped at each of the other tables to say hello to everyone. It didn’t matter that he was the temp guy. It didn’t matter if he knew them or not. He was asking how everyone was feeling and if they had enjoyed lunch. Grandma has been grumpy lately, so you could argue that he was delaying. But I had been with this guy all day, and I know it’s just who he is. He’s a talker. He’s a hand-shaker. He’s an encourager. He’s a lover. He had done this from morning to afternoon. And I believe he’s been living this life for years, more likely decades. He made another round on the way out, once grandma finished her meal.

Grandma sort of ran/rolled ahead (with her walker) on the trek back to their room. I guess her physical therapy is working, at least a little bit. I told grandpa I enjoyed spending the day with him, and specifically seeing how he cares for people. He left me with a nugget. In his Yankee accent he said, “It doesn’t cost me anything to give someone else some hope and joy.” In all honesty, it does cost him. It takes his time and energy, and as life happens, he doesn’t have a whole lot of either left. But what he does have, he is putting to good use.

What he was really saying was that it’s worth every bit of what it does cost to love others well, and to bring hope and joy. I love that man dearly and I am thankful for the example he has been in my life.

#LETMEINTRODUCEYOU

Also, he calls his walker his Harley. See why I love him?