A Cultural Encounter In The Middle Of The Covid Crisis

 

 

On Thursday, June4, 2020, I had an appointment in Lexington and my wife, Candice went with me.  I stopped, as I often do, on the way there to hike for an hour plus in Hood's Branch at Natural Bridge State Park.  Then we headed on to Lexington for my mid-afternoon appointment.  We have been absolutely religious about social distancing and complying with the Covid 19 guidelines and directives from Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear, who is, in my opinion, the best governor in America; but, we had also discussed possibly going to eat lunch at one of our favorite ethnic restaurants because we like the setting, the food, the employees, and the owner. But, now that restrictions are loosening up a bit, and Kentucky has done such a good job of handling the situation under the strong, competent, decisive, and compassionate leadership of Governor Beshear, we had decided we would be willing to eat lunch in this restaurant.  That decision was influenced strongly by the fact that the room is large, open, well ventilated, clean, and run by an owner with common sense and professionalism.  

 

I am not using the name of the restaurant, the particular ethnicity of the food or the owner, or any other identifying data and you will understand that choice better a bit later in this post.  When we arrived, we decided that I would go into the restaurant first, appraise the situation, and make a decision if we would go through with the lunch in light of the fact that Candice has serious health issues and has been in a wheelchair for twenty years.  I got out of the van and as I was walking to the door I realized that the owner was still only serving pickup customers.  The particular food we like to eat in that restaurant is served very hot and Candice particularly likes their soup which is not made to be eaten in a vehicle by a person with mobility and dexterity issues.  As I approached the door, the owner came out to bring food to go to another customer.  I said something or other to effect of "I see you are only serving pickup" to which he replied in his heavily accented speech, "Yes, but I be open tomorrow for dine in.  You can come tomorrow."  I responded, "I live two hours away and I won't be here tomorrow" and started to leave when he recognized me and said, "If you want, I will open for you today.  You can come in."  I agreed to do it and told him I would be right back with my wife.  

 

When I returned from the vehicle pushing Candice in her wheelchair, the owner held the single door he was using open for us to enter and seated us at a table in the dining room which actually had three men ranging in age from probably early twenties to middle seventies who were all of the same ethnicity as the owner and all speaking their native language.  The dining room was all set up for the opening the next day with one row of table eliminated and all the other tables marked in alternating spots to honor social distancing.  There were multiple hand sanitizer stations and all the usual multi-use items and utensils had been removed from the tables.  The owner and one other employee were the only people working so there were five natives of the country in question speaking their native language and Candice and I speaking English.  The owner brought us a stack of paper napkins and served us our usual dishes.  As  he was rushing around covering two, or possibly three different positions, he managed to stop by our table, give us excellent service, and we shared some stories about our previous visits to his business and a story I often tell others about the first person I ever knew from his country.  We had a leisurely lunch which was excellent, had great conversation, and most of the feeling that we were being treated as special customers, regulars, aficionados  of the place.  He gave us the schedule of how he will be open in the future including the days he will be closed and then added, "if you come when I'm not open, knock on the door, I'm usually here and I will feed you if you show up when I'm closed."  

 

After I got home, I told a relative about the incident who agreed with me that it was a special and memorable treatment from a person who probably works more hours in a week than many do in a month; a man who is open, friendly, humorous, and caring; and a fine example of how much this country has and can, in the future, benefit from welcoming immigrants forever just as we always have.  

Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!