In the middle of the day between six stops here and there for varying reasons of running errands and seeing a doctor, one of those instances of “when you least expect it” smacked me in the face, gut and heart. Long ago as a downtown kid in Macon, Georgia, my palate fell in love with the taste of Krystals. It is a curse that remains. Some things change, but not those little gut-busters.
My Monday meal was done at the Cedar Bluff Krystal on Kingston Pike. Trash collected and ready to roll, the next stop was the trash bin next to the doors on the way to the car. Not far from my table a couple had been enjoying their burgers. He was tall and bald and she had beautiful gray hair.
While eating the thought crossed my mind – “That old couple sitting over there sure loves their Krystals.” They may have noticed me and thought: “That old guy sure loves his Krystals.” The bald gentleman and his wife may have been a bit older than this 75-year-old. Maybe younger.
They had finished and we met at the bin. My load went in and then theirs. And then I turned and said, “Beautiful day. How y’all doing today?”
Many of us greet people we don’t know with the pro forma “How ya doing today?” or “How are things going?”
My “how y’all doing today question” asked, he turned and looked at his wife, and our eyes met. His were very moist. “Not so good, actually. We just left the doctor and I’ve got a tumor the size of a peach on my left lung.”
His lips were quivering. He tried to say something else but couldn’t. His wife’s left arm was hooked inside his right, and she gave his arm a shake or two in love and support, sweet loving support, and her smile was wonderful, full of spirit and care and love. That visit to the doctor changed their lives.
Once long ago, words could not come to me when the grandeur and beauty of the Grand Canyon met my eyes for the first time. Being at a loss for words has never been a problem for me – ever. The Grand Canyon left me speechless for 30 minutes, just sitting there taking it in.
This gentleman’s answer shocked me. To the core. What do I say, my mind asked. What do I say? What can I say? Speechless for a second time.
“I’m sorry” is what finally came out. Before my mind put more words in my mouth, he spoke: “Ever smoked a cigarette?” he asked as a few tears were rolling.
“I’ve never had one on my lips. Ever. My parents smoked and I hated it.”
He nodded. “Don’t ever start.” He poked his chest with a finger. “Lung cancer. Nothing they can do.”
Small talk followed, but about what escapes me now. He did say something about what’s next, and how we never know what comes our way day by day, hour by hour.
Sometimes it’s minute by minute or second by second. Life is fragile.
We shook hands. It was a long and firm handshake. All of our eyes were moist by now. “Both of you will be in my prayers” is what I said. “May God bless y’all.” He smiled for the first time. His wife thanked me. And we walked into the parking lot. He climbed into his pickup two parking spots from my car. As I watched them leave a regret slammed into my heart and head, a regret that lingers and lingers – why didn’t I ask them their names?
I will never forget their faces. Ever. They’re nameless to me but in my thoughts. Forever.
Tom King has served at newspapers in Georgia, Tennessee, Texas and California and has been the editor of two newspapers. He writes Our Town Heroes for KnoxTNToday.com.