Sept. 7
Dear Lainey,
I am finally alone in this big house of my folks, after being with a fair portion of my brothers and sisters and their kids over the weekend. The drive out here was kind of weary: I stopped in Iowa City for the night (Saturday), woke at 5 and had an engaging conversation with a young waitress self-described as “weird” but in actuality very feisty, who had just thrown three big drunk guys out of the restaurant where she worked.
When I went into this place, I first asked for a table that had enough light to read by. Then I asked for the ceiling fans to be shut off, because it was already a cold morning and I didn’t want to drink my coffee in a strong breeze. Then the cook was playing Dueling Radios with the stuff being piped in for the customers, and Heather (the waitress) told the cook to shut off his or her radio.
Then, as it was nearing the end of the night shift, Heather just came over to my booth and leaned against it with a coffee pot dangling from her hand and watched me eat a cinnamon roll the size of a dinner plate.
She was young – about 20 – and had this very fresh-faced innocence about her. For someone so young, with no real experience of the world, she had some good insight into the key issues of life. For instance, we were talking about the role of the family environment in development, and I held up my finger and said, “There are basically two ways to look at life,” and prepared to give a big speech. She said, “I know: It either makes you or breaks you.” I was taken aback a bit and said, “You put that very succinctly.”
So it was time for me to go, and I shook her hand and wished her luck. As I went to pay my bill, I saw the cooks through a little open window in the kitchen wall, and they appeared to be finishing up a litany of complaints about Heather: “. . . and not only that, she stood leaning against the booth and talking with that guy for half an hour.”
My last words to Heather were “You know, with your potential for sympathy and empathy, you would make a great fortune-teller.” Well, maybe she’ll join the circus. . .
