This was first written in October of 2011 just over two years ago. The details of the event so closely follow the theme of my last blogs that I decided to add it here as a more permanent documentation than that of a document only saved on an old computer.
A few weeks ago I met a young Hispanic man. Over the course of a few days we continued communication and have actually become good friends even though it would appear we have nothing in common and he is young to be my grandson.
Today, he helped me move some heavy furniture and in return I thought the least I could do would be to buy his lunch at one of our local more popular restaurants. My country fried steak tasted as if had been left over from last week. The gravy was cold. The creamed potatoes had a good taste only if one likes iced potatoes. But these are not the reasons for this being one of the worst lunches ever.
Upon entering the establishment he commented, "This is awkward. I don't feel comfortable here." One quick look around the place and it was easy to see why. some of the patrons, mostly the more elderly ones, had stopped their eating and were looking at us as if we had escaped some circus freak show. I would assume from their stares that they had never seen a Hispanic person eat in the same restaurant as them before. As we were taking our seats, my friend made reference to being the only person there who did not appear to be a white Anglo-Saxon. True there were no other Latino, Black, or Asian customers present.
Our server, who appeared to be in her mid sixties, was prompt and matter of fact in her manner but stopped just short of being rude in taking our order. There was a notice of the absence of any small talk which had always been present with the staff when I ate there with my wife and other friends. There was not even a hint of a smile. After an extremely long wait our food was delivered. It would be more accurate to say that our food was dropped off at our table. She brought a dish with ketchup, honey mustard, and BBQ sauce for his chicken and explained briefly in a condescending tone the use of each condiment as if he had never been exposed to them before. She spoke in a loud slow voice as if speaking to someone who was either deaf or unable to understand the English language. There was absolutely no follow up to refill our iced tea glasses or to see if we needed any other service or wanted to order any additional food.
By the conclusion of the meal, I was beginning to feel as if maybe we were from a different planet or solar system. My friend finished his meal and excused himself to wait outside while I hastily gulped down my last few bites and paid the bill to make a fast exit. It was all too obvious that neither we nor our business was welcome there.
One would think that we have advanced beyond the days of racial and ethnic discrimination and prejudice, but it appears to still be alive and well, and it still thrives off ignorance and suspicion. Lesson learned: I know where not to go eat.
Follow up: It has been two years since that incident happened. Neither he, my wife, nor I have been back there to eat. He has become a very good friend to both my wife and I. For almost two years, he has made his home with us. We have gotten to know his family and many of his friends. We have accepted them into our lives, and many of them have accepted us into theirs as well. Soon after meeting him, his grandmother died in Central America. He began referring my wife and me as his grandparents, and some of his friends recognize us as such. He is a vital part of our acquired family that I have spoken of in previous blogs. Love, acceptance and respect are not determined by race, color, age, or ethnic background. We are all God's children.
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