Not much exciting today. This morning we went back down to the beaches along this string of state parks to see things at low tide and listen to the sea lions barking offshore. Then I napped. Hey, this is hard work! And there was a lubricated party at the campsite across the way that kept me awake until about 2 a.m. Pam slept through it, explaining that she's become accustomed to sleeping through loud noise. Lunch was followed by a trip back into Bandon to do laundry and see the lighthouse at the mouth of the Coquille River. Unfortunately, it's closed for some reason.
Laundromats rate right up there with Walmart in my book.
We usually have one meal a day in a restaurant and we’ve had dinner at the same joint for two consecutive nights; probably go back there for a third. The best way to find a good restaurant, especially in a tourist town like Bandon, OR, is to ask a local. So Thursday I asked the lady behind the desk at the art gallery for her recommendation and she gave us two options. We chose the second one because their seafood isn’t battered. Tony’s Crab Shack is on the boardwalk, very unassuming - the term shack fits well - but has excellent food at very reasonable prices. You can eat at tables outside or at one of six small cramped tables inside. The crab comes straight from the bay and you choose it out of a live tank beside the kitchen. The salmon is fresh, the fish tacos outstanding, Pam loves their chowder.... If you’re in Bandon go to Tony’s Crab Shack!
They say everybody has a story. I’ll accept that as true, but some people have a much more interesting story than others. Sometimes I look at someone I don’t know in a restaurant or in a store and think, “I wish I could talk to them and hear their story.”
It happened to me twice yesterday at the same place, Tony’s. The first was a boy who looked to be in his mid-teens sitting at a table with three other boys about the same age. Based on resemblances and their interaction I deduced they were from a blended family. Sure enough, the obviously rich dad and his rather younger trophy wife came over from another table to see how things were going.
The boy who caught my attention had physical disabilities. I’m not at all good at identifying disabilities and describing them runs the risk of a serious faux pas, so I’ll just say that his arms didn’t move normally, were always bent at the elbow, and his hands were curled. His chin stayed in a slightly raised position and he moved his head with difficulty. As they left the restaurant he used a walker, but he seemed to be proficient with it and moved easily.
Judging from his interactions with his brothers (?) his only limitations were physical. He seemed to laugh at the same things, turn and look when the others did, etc. I’ve no reason to think he had anything more than physical limitations.
I want to hear his story. I wanted to ask him how he lives life, how others respond to him, what his challenges are, how he deals with them....
I sometimes ask people, “What’s the hardest part of being you?” I often get fascinating and revealing responses. (What’s yours?) I want to ask this kid that question.
After they left that table was occupied by another obvious story person. (Must be that spot, huh?) This was a Black woman who looked to be about 40 and what was clearly her daughter, a fair skinned girl about 10 with White facial features. Mom was attractive, but what drew my attention was her smile. It never disappeared over the 30 minutes or so we were there. Her default expression was the happiest smile I’ve seen, and her cheerful eyes backed it up. She just seemed to be enjoying life, and I got the impression it was a joy from deep inside, not based on circumstances.
No wedding ring, FWIW.
That woman has a story. My mind tends to fill in the blanks, and in her case it involves a determination to survive, to triumph, to choose happy over self pity. Maybe I’m all wrong. Either way, I want to hear her story.
I didn’t ask either of them. That’s not allowed in our culture. I’d come across weird, or worse. So I fill in the blank spots in my mind, imagining what could be based on my observations.
People are the best part, even when I can’t hear their story.
I'm working on and off throughout the day on my nine (yes, nine) speaking sessions at camp in two weeks. Definitely starting to stress this.
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