May 15, 2018--Midcoast: The Whites of Their Eyes

Let's call him Ralph. He's a retired ferryboat captain and whenever he shows up at the Bristol Diner we enjoy seeing him and catching up with what's on his mind. One thing we know, he's always full of surprises. 

Monday morning he was all excited, talking about a recent visit to one of South Carolina's Sea Islands. It's mainly populated by descendants of former slaves and the people there, the Gullahs, speak a language of their own that's a Creole amalgam of English and several West and Central African languages.

Not knowing much about them, Ralph spoke primarily about the quiet beauty of the place. "I love the sea," he said, "Made my livin' from what the sea, the ocean, and the bays gave up to people like me who never got much education. In my case . . ." he winked, and left the rest unsaid.

"I've never been to the Sea Islands," I said, "If I had a bucket list that would be on it."

"You know, one of the most interesting things there is that they speak Elizabethan English. Can hardly understand a word of it."

I didn't correct him. He was on a roll.

"Nice people, the Sea Islanders. And there's one thing you can say about them for sure"--he paused to see if I was paying attention--"after dark all you can see are their eyes and teeth." He chuckled at that.

Before I could think what to say, he was on to something else.

"Too bad we don't have Mexicans 'round here."

"What!" I said, still thinking about the eyes and teeth.

"I mean, they're looking for help here. A dishwasher, another cook. Too bad Deb can't make a couple of calls and find a Mexican to work for her."

"I assume you mean a legal one," I said.

He smiled. "An illegal would be alright with me."

"Really? That would be alright with you?"

"I just said that," Ralph said. "You got a problem with it?"

"Yes and no," I said.

"That's a surprise coming from you," Ralph said. "I thought all you liberals want to see us have open borders. So let's start with your problem with this."

I said, "But first I need to say I am not in favor of rounding up and deporting 10, 11 million people who are here without documents. That to me would not only be impossible to carry out but cruel. Many undocumented people have been here for decades, work hard, and don't make any trouble. A carefully crafted pathway to legal status--doesn't have to be citizenship--makes sense to me."

"So far I'm with you," Ralph said.

Surprised, I continued, "But then again to be here they broke the law and we should do all we can to make sure there isn't a new flood of illegal immigrants, seeing those already here on a pathway to legal status, entering the country seeking the same kind of deal. From history we know that in 1986 Ronald Reagan of all people signed an immigration reform bill that gave 3.0 million amnesty. It didn't stop people entering the country illegally. Probably did the opposite. I wouldn't want to repeat that."

"We pretty much agree," Ralph said, "Our economy would collapse if they weren't here or if we moved to send them back to where they came from. And it's not just washing dishes and picking lettuce that they do. There'd be a lot less homebuilding going on and lots of new businesses wouldn't exist. We need them here and need to figure out how to get all this fighting about them behind us. It's tearing us apart. Of course that's just what a lot of politicians on both sides want for their own purposes."

"We do agree," I said, admittedly surprised by that.

"Some of my people came here from Eastern Europe," Ralph said, "To tell you the truth maybe not all legally, and here I am to tell the tale. They made their contribution to America and I also tried to. I guess I'm a sort of like one of those Dreamers." At that he laughed, coughing as he did so.

Later that night, when I replayed the tape in my head of our conversation, I though again about how complicated this place is and how much I like that.

July 6, 2016--Midcoast: Rona

The day after the 4th we got a late start and didn't get to the Bristol Diner until about 9:30. On the way over, we speculated about how busy it might be. Probably packed," I said. "What with people still visiting and some departing, I'll bet we'll have to wait for seats at the counter. Forget a booth."

"Maybe one of our friends will be there and we'll be able to squeeze in with them. But I predict," Rona said, Rona who hates to predict anything--even the outcome of the Kentucky Derby, said, "My guess is it won't be that busy. It's past the breakfast hour."

"During holidays breakfast hour can be any time, including 2:00 in the afternoon."

"That's true," Rona acknowledged.

It turned out to be packed and we had to wait 10 minutes for a booth. It would have been much longer because the new waitress was overwhelmed and to help move things along, including making space for us, Rona cleared the table and toweled it off.

We sat for at least another 10 minutes before the waitress could get us a couple of cups of coffee. And then 10 minutes more before she got around to taking our order. Also in an attempt to move things along we both ordered the same thing--Deb's terrific budget burrito. We took a pass on asking for anything exotic, like what Rona on the way over said she was in the mood for. If Deb had made potato pancakes, then Rona was interested in one with a poached egg on top. If not, sautéed spinach and mushrooms over a toasted English muffin. Rona has taken to ordering these so often that they're coming to be known as a Rona.

Deb was cooking. She is well-known for being able to juggle at least half a dozen orders simultaneously but this morning she too seemed backed up.

"Is everything OK?" Rona asked Deb.

"She's new," Deb said empathetically, "and is having trouble entering orders into the computer. The one that then sends the order to me so I know what to cook. That's what's slowing things down. Plus, we've had a very busy morning and probably could have used another girl. To help with the customers and to wash dishes. Look at that stack?"

Rona did and got right up off her seat and made her way to the sink. For the next two hours she cleared tables and washed dishes.

I sat alone with my burrito but happy to do so because with Rona's dishwashing and expediting everyone was getting their orders more or less on time and the vibe in the diner went from slight annoyance to a more-familiar happy buzz.

During those two hours something else happened--

We knew a few people who were there having breakfast and one or two noticed I was alone--which in itself is unusual--and that Rona seemed to be working for Deb. Yet more unusual.

At first, by this they were discombobulated but quickly figured out that Rona had not taken a dishwasher job--though doing so is one of her on-going fantasies--but rather had simply pitched in to help.

Then, as more and more customers poured in, some now having to line up to wait for a place at the counter or a booth, a number of people who were just two in a four-seater booth, shifted themselves to the counter and a few began to help buss tables. One or two running stacks of dirty dishes back to Rona at the sink in the kitchen.

It was as if the entire place, likely inspired by Rona's example, took responsibility to help Deb and her new hire get through the morning and make it easier for people to place orders and get seated without having to wait longer than absolutely necessary.

After her "shift," by 11:00 when breakfast was no long served and just before the lunch rush, Rona, all sweated up but exhilarated, emerged from the kitchen and said, "I think I'm done. Let's go to town to get the paper."

"That was terrific," I said, feeling good about Rona, "And I'm sure . . ."

Deb had also come out from the kitchen and finished my thought, "I can't tell you how much I appreciated that. We were at the tipping point. Actually past it, and you pulled us back."

"Thanks," Rona said, "To tell you the truth I've always wanted to do that. I really enjoyed it. And look what everyone else did--shifting to the counter to make room for larger groups, bussing tables, generally helping to clean up. That's what I love about this town. How people pitch in."

"I don't take it for granted," Deb said. "I really don't."

"One more thing," Rona said.

"Anything," Deb said and she meant it.

"What time do you want me tomorrow?"

"It's your lucky day," Deb said smiling, "We're closed on Wednesday. Enjoy your day off."

Deb