I had a perfect day.
And I’ve been thinking about why that was.
And what it comes down to is this- at my essence, I’m a playful, whimsical person. But that hasn’t had a lot of opportunities to come out of late. There are several reasons why this is. It’s partially due to the doomsday/ world-ending catastrophe of COVID19 (when the disease was first discovered, so many people were dying in New York. Heshy’s entire community was affected to the max. It was scary.) On top of that, a lot of people I know have been going through their own periods of darkness over the past two years- deaths, miscarriages, stillbirths and losses, and that’s weighed on me, too. And aside from that, I’ve spent the past half year trying to come to terms with a piece of information I didn’t (still don’t) want to accept about someone who matters to me and made my life better.
This, along with the daily grind of caring for young children, has all been weighing me down. It’s been a mixture of fear, sadness, frustration and boredom for a while now. It hasn’t been ideal.
So I’ve been searching for myself. The version of myself my husband originally knew, and the one I am at my core. The one who pays for skater guy’s Subway sandwich and makes a new friend. Or makes friends on the Bolt Bus or on airplanes (yes, all of these things have happened.) The one who dances around plazas lit up with twinkly lights.
And tonight I found her again.
Because I talked to the fabulous gay server at the restaurant I went to and he told me his life story. His parents weren’t really around as a kid, so he taught himself to cook. He described in a self-deprecating fashion how he would put together a can of tuna and some cream of mushroom soup and some macaroni and figure out that it worked. And then he went into dishwashing at restaurants, then cooking, and finally working as a server. He and his partner have a daughter, and he’s allowed to bring her to the restaurant during his shifts. I just had so much respect for him and his story, including the way he told it. It was matter of fact. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. I asked him whether there was something I could do for him or someone I could commend him to, and he said he would send his manager over.
Sure enough, his manager, Gordon, came over, and I told him how amazing our server had been. Gordon was surprised. “I came here expecting a problem,” he said. “Usually I have to deal with damage control.” “Nope,” I said, “no problems at all! I just wanted to tell you how fabulous our server was,” and then I praised him some more.
(And then we made sure to tip him more than he expected to be tipped. He was surprised in a good way.)
It was such a simple thing for me to do to ask for the manager and praise our server. And who knows? Maybe it will mean our server gets more shifts. Or a bonus. And I love those moments. I live for those moments. Those small moments where you can do something and possibly change a person’s life, even if only in a small way, for the better.
Then I did carpool karaoke on the car ride back to Hinder’s “Lips of Angel,” wandered around downtown Evanston, took a series of cute and silly pictures posing in front of shopfronts and statues, and basically basked in lit up plazas.
And I felt…happy. Because I was back in touch with this version of me.
Give me dance parties, club music, twinkle lights at night and the ability to learn about a person’s life, what they’ve endured and how they’ve survived, and things get better.
Here’s me in front of a random shopfront. Since our fabulous server was gay and one of our best friends identifies as trans, it seemed like an apropos place to take a photo. People who have hard lives and are still able to be open and loving to others are my favorite kind of humans.
I love this. I too had a perfect day. And it was far from oerfect until I met Mario and his daughter Rianna. This was amazing - there they were , he with an old accordion, she , a child with a simple amp and a llilting, husky voice. They were playing outside Trader Joe’s. I gave them a few bucks, told the girl her voice was lovely. And asked if they would like anything from inside. When I came back with a few treats plus the water they’d asked for I had a chance to really ask them about their story too. They are Roma from outside Bucharest, busking to help Mario’s brother pay the hotel rent as they travel. I learned all about the rest of the family back hone in Romania and how Mario hopes to settle in Chicago and to bring his family. Hopes dreams hard work. His relationship with his 7 year old daughter seemed so loving and respectful and she had a fresh clear eyed smile and a clear willingness to work - her confidence demanded attention yet her childish reverence for her Dad demonstrated how very different their family culture is from a typical American. I fell in love with them, got their phone number and they are invited home to dinner later this week. It honestly made my day to see how they interacted and to be able to share meaningful moments with them, to share laughter and the genuine warmth that quickly developed between us - and Romania is the most beautiful country I have ever visited. I told a friend later G-d gifted me with these people this day…modah ani.