Recently my sisters and I took a road trip. Although we talk pretty much every day, we seldom get to spend much time actually hanging out together. As we started the day, we decided our destination would be the villages of Van Buren County in Iowa.
One of our stops along the way was the Dutchman's Store in Cantrell. While there, we amassed quite a stock of great buys. I personally bought 50 pounds of potatoes, three long wheels of cheese and enough pastry flour to last into the next decade. (Keep in mind I live by myself.)
It took two shopping carts to get all our treasures out to my car. By the time it was loaded, the rear was sagging. We just winked at each other, and jumped back into the car to continue our trek.
We stopped by several quaint, little shops along the way. Many were already closed for the season. We spent the morning riding, visiting and commenting on the sights. Once we even called the number on a realty sign to check out the price of one of the old historical houses in Bentonsport. Were we really going to buy a house there? Not really, but it was great adventure to find out the cost.
We laughed. We made fun of each other. It was a good day to forget all the chores we each encountered daily. We got lost on a gravel road for at least a half hour, and received directions from two different fellows, each one giving us different directions.
Anyway, we found our way to a “hard road” and proceeded on with the trip.
We stopped at the Bonaparte Retreat for lunch. This is a charming restaurant that used to be a mill. The smell was delightful as we read the blackboard of specials at the front door. We could seat ourselves, and made sure we were all up against the wall so we could see who was coming and going.
We were soon greeted by the most charming little lady. She placed her hand on my shoulder and asked us if we three girls were out stirring up trouble for the day. We all laughed and assured her she had “hit the nail on the head.”
She had gray, curly hair, was slight in build, and her hands showed the signs of years of hard work. She wore a clean, pressed apron and an infectious smile.
She took our order - homemade beef and noodles on top of real mashed potatoes. It was not a hard decision to make, and yes, they had mile-high homemade pies for dessert.
She returned with our drinks and soon the meal arrived. Each time she came to the table she would visit with us. I turned to my sisters and said, “When I grow up, I want to be just like her.” We laughed.
We tried to guess how old she might be. When she came back with our tickets, I told her what I had said and she smiled. She said she had been waiting tables for the owner for 26 years. She told us she was 87 years old. Yes, 87 years old. Keep in mind, she was carrying big trays of food and drinks, and seemed to enjoy every minute of it.
What an amazing woman. I left the restaurant thinking that I had found a new hero. In an age where everyone is trying to find that special loophole in the system, where they don't have to work, here is a woman that started waiting tables after she was retirement age.
I wish everyone could encounter this lovely lady. Talking to her just might make you reflect on how you have lived your life, and what you might need to do to make it better.
Working hard isn't a bad thing. When we get up everyday and put on a good face, we are showing our children that working and making a legitimate living is a true blessing. Whether it be sitting in an office with a starched white shirt, or waiting tables with a starched white apron, there is a certain respect that working folks demand.
We should all lead by example. We should impress our kids with values so they will want to succeed. Little is accomplished by “working the system.”
In this recession, there are many who are feeling the effects of job layoffs and downsizing. I, myself, am encountering the effects. I don't like it, but I am not going to let it get me down.
If I learned one thing on our little trip, it would be the fact that it is never too late. We can feel sorry for ourselves for what the economy has done to us, or we can make do with what God has given us. I am sure that my new friend, Marie, would say the same thing.
I am thankful that my sisters and I took this little road trip, and that this special little lady came into my life so I could tell this story.
Sidney J. Phillips once said, “Men are made stronger on realization that the helping hand they need is at the end of their own arm.”
Think about that.
