This story is written by a good friend of mine. I know her dad and love her to death. This story has helped mold her into the wonderful person she is today. Have I told you this before?: When I was about 14, my family took an extended road trip from Santa Cruz CA to San Antonio TX. Somewhere in the middle (and at 14, everything looks the same) we stop at a roadside diner. Just a hole-in-the-wall little place with a counter and a pie case and a few tables with checkboard cloths. We try to find a table but there is only a two-top available so my father tells me to take my brother and sit at the counter so he and my stepmom can take the little table. I whip around (and with the bravado and arrogance of a typical 14-year-old beach girl) I loudly proclaim Im not going to sit next to these dirty truckers!. My dad grabs me by the arm, walks me to the closest guy and says: This dirty trucker is the one who provides the food on your table. The shoes on your feet. He works long hours to provide all the material goods our family needs and his family doesnt get to see him much because he needs to get your toys to the toy store and your bike to the bike store and your food to the grocery store. Truckers make sure there is gas for the car and medicine for your grandmother. You show some respect. The whole place went silent. Meekly, I eek out Im sorry, sir. Thank you for helping us. Ive never seen so many men walk out of a place with such pride on their faces. My dad could always make people feel special. I learned something from him that day. Love you dad.
Posted on: Sat, 28 Jun 2014 22:48:50 +0000
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