I ran into an old friend the other day. She was leaving somewhere as I was going in, we literally bumped into each other. It had been years since we had seen each other, we both said that at the same time as people often do when its been years since they’ve seen each other. We were part of a group of friends that all used to hang out together years ago. We would all get together for dinner or drinks, or go on outings together. Over time people got married, some got divorced , others started families, people moved on, the group started breaking up and we all saw less of each other, until the only time we saw each other was when we bumped into each other, someone leaving somewhere as someone else enters.
After about 5 minutes of catching up on jobs, families and what other friends in the group were doing, the conversation started to lag, there were awkward pauses. She said she had to be somewhere, I don’t remember where, but she left me a question to ponder. She said someone had just asked her this question and it really made her think, and now she was asking everybody she knew the same question. She said she wanted a thoughtful response, I could take my time and text her the answer in a few days and with that she scribbled her cell number on a piece of paper and gave a quick hug and hurried off.
If you could have dinner with one person in the history of the world, living or dead famous or not, known to you or just somebody you always wanted to meet, who would it be?
I pondered the question all the way home and was still thinking about it as I lay in bed that night. Who would it be? Perhaps a famous president like Lincoln or Washington and we could discuss great moments in American history. Maybe another founding father like Alexander Hamilton, although I would have to try to explain to him why there was a hip-hop musical about him and the other founding fathers. I laughed as I thought of this, my knowledge of hip-hop is probably as limited as Alexander Hamilton’s and I’m afraid dinner would be a disaster. I’ve always enjoyed sports and famous athletes, a dinner with Babe Ruth would certainly be memorable or maybe Jackie Robinson. Or maybe a famous comedian like Robin Williams, that would be an interesting dinner, you could just say anything and off he would go and you could just sit back and watch him, dinner as performance art.
I was still thinking about this question as I was shaving the next morning. I was also pondering if I should shave my goatee, it had turned all gray in the last year and I was worried it was making me look old. As usual I was over thinking the question, about dinner and the goatee, the answer, about both, was literally staring me in the face. It was someone I knew but also didn’t know at all, someone with an interesting story who had overcome hardships, someone who’s story I should know better. The answer about the goatee would have to wait, the answer about dinner was easy, it was my grandfather.
My paternal grandfather was an old man from the very first time I remember him. As a kid, every old person seems old but he seemed really old. He was short with gray hair and glasses, he walked slow and occasionally he would argue with his wife in a foreign language. We would see him at holidays and a couple of other times during the year when we would visit. Usually it was on a Sunday and we would have the traditional two o’clock Sunday dinner. I never actually remember doing anything with my grandfather, no outings to the park or store, no playing catch in the yard. We would just go over and visit, and I would think to myself….he’s very old.
But, I would choose my grandfather for this unique experience because you see my grandfather was an immigrant. The details of his journey to America and the life he led are not known to me, perhaps I have not been as curious as I should have been. He immigrated from the Slovak region of Europe. It was probably after World War 1 but before World War 2. He was part of the great wave of immigrants coming to America lured by the American dream. I would start there, asking him about the old country, asking him about the hardships and difficulties of every day life and what had he heard about America that enticed him to pack up and leave.
I’m sure like most immigrants of that time he arrived with the clothes on his back and maybe all his possessions in one suitcase, maybe a few dollars in his pocket. I would want to know how he ended up in Detroit, had he heard about the growing auto industry and that there were good paying jobs available? I would ask about my grandmother, a woman I had never known, she had died when my father was quite young. I would want to know all about the hardships of an immigrant in America, the language issue, did he know people already here who helped him get settled? Did he face anger and discrimination being an immigrant? Did people think that there were too many of “those people” coming over to take their jobs and use the system without really contributing? And most of all I would ask about my father and his siblings and what life was like in Detroit in the 40’s and 50’s when Detroit was one of the greatest cities in America.
I imagine we would drink some cold beers and finally I would take out my phone and show him some pictures, although I’m sure that would be a 10 minute conversation about why my phone was in my pocket and how did I have pictures on it. I’d show him pictures of my son, his great grandson. I’d tell him his great grand son was a pretty good kid who was growing up quickly and had ambitious dreams for the future.
I would tell him that life was good, and I would thank him for taking a chance and being brave, more brave than I could ever imagine, for coming to America and overcoming great odds and hardships and for being a good father to my own father. I know he must have been a good father because my own dad is one of the most kindest, gentlest, patient souls around and he must have got that from him. I imagine we would share one last long hug before going our separate ways, far richer for the experience.
Thought for the day…..
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