I Met Him on a
Fall Day
I met him on a fall day in the town of San Anselmo.
It was the town's Community Fair Day. I was a volunteer
and I had just finished my shift that began very early
that morning helping line up all the people for the
parade. We had kids on bikes and bagpipers and the Wells
Fargo stagecoach with four horses and a guy dressed in a
clown outfit who came behind and cleaned up main street
after them.
I was standing around expecting that I would meet a
man that day, knowing that I would. That may sound
arrogant, but I was a widow for over two years slogging
through grief and sadness and it was one of those
crystal clear Indian summer days. I felt ready. That day
I felt ready.
In front of me in a food line, a guy with bright
crinkly blue eyes says something in French to me and
looks at me with this twinkle in his eye. And I am
tempted to say something back to him in French, but
somehow I don't, it is my turn and the waiter is asking
me what I want while I am trying to think what to say.
When I turn around with my plate in hand to look for the
crinkly blue-eyed guy, he is gone.
I eat my small plate of food and walk down the
street, slightly disappointed. But then I brighten up
and decide to just go over to the food area and hang
out.
I scan the long, family-style
tables with red and white checked tablecloths and see a
guy in a cowboy hat sitting at one of them. He is
wearing dark glasses and is by himself. "Not him,"
I say to myself, "he looks a little peculiar, like a
loner or something."
I think, " Well I'll
just go stand over by the oysters and let someone come
up to me if he wants to and if not, I'll walk
home." I chat with the fellows who are dishing up the
oysters.
The guy with the sunglasses comes up to me
and says, "are you Irish?" "No," I say, "I'm Polish."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guys who are
dishing up the oysters smile.
We start
talking. He asks me where I am from because he detects
my midwestern accent. When he finds out I'm from
Wisconsin, he starts talking about football. "I remember
'Dale to the left and Dowler to the right' in those old
Packer games with Bart Starr and Vince Lombardi," I say.
"My family are all Packer fans, the whole state is one
great big Packer fan."
Then he asks me,
would I have dinner with him some time? Without even
thinking, I say, "I would."
... more to
come.
