Sometimes despite doing the right thing, life can still serve up a good ass whopping. Lately it seems I’ve been the recipient of a multi point pincer assault. When this happens I retreat to a chicken restaurant in the hood, HAMPTON’S.
It’s not the comfort food that buoys me, but the waitress who serves me my southern fried chicken. She is a middle aged woman with one arm. When I first met her I tried not to study her and her technique too intensely, that would have been rude. I did observe her tucking her order pad under what remained of her left arm. She maneuvered her heavy silver tray more adeptly than Mercury handled his discus. I thought there are so many other things this lady could do, but she chose to be a server, and a superb one at that. I never have to ask for a refill of my unsweetened ice tea, she instinctively knew when I was thirsty. When I want to pay for my meal, I never need a search party for her or my tab.
Even the best of us can be occasional bellyachers. There are legions of us who blame life’s problems on everybody else but ourselves (and our dubious choices). There are also inspirational folks who not only talk the talk but walk the walk (sometimes with a heavy tray of chicken, biscuits, and collard greens ). In this life you can meet some remarkable people in unremarkable places.