Dinner with my daughter

Last night my 2 year old daughter and I had dinner out together while my wife was in Las Vegas on business. It was one of those corporate-almost themed restaurants.  You know the type of place peppy wait staff, garage-sale items adorn the walls and a free balloon to every child young and old who visit the establishment.
 

A curious thing took place while we were there. Seated at a table across from ours was a man eating alone. Middle-aged, very fit and dressed comfortably well. I cry inside every time I see someone eating alone in a restaurant. I don't mean a fast food restaurant or a picnic table at a park,  but when I see a person at a "sit-down" place my heart aches. Why do I do this? There is probably an explanation for their eating in solitude. But for some reason I feel that they are starved for any kind of attention and inter-action with their fellow human. And most of us just walk on by each other without any kind of acknowledgement. I am just as guilty as you. Is it hard to say hello to someone for no other reason but kindness or maybe just a small smile and nod, but no, we must get there fast. Our lives are to chaotic for that and what the hell they might do something to me that I don't like. Isn't every stranger crazy? Isn't that what they taught us? Those who know? I really wanted to ask this man to join us at our table.

 

"Excuse me, sir? I noticed that you are dining alone this evening and I was wondering if you would care to join my daughter and I."

 

"Oh, well, umm, yeah that'd be nice. Thank You. I'm Carl." He says with a mixture of trepidation as a small glint of satisfaction warms his eyes. We shake hands.

 

"Hey Daisy, this is Carl. Can you say hello?" She buries her head into her chest with two-year old shyness.

 

"Hi Daisy." Says Carl.

 

She peeks out from under her arm and smiles before hiding once again.

 

We talk about the things people talk about when first meeting. What we do for work. How we like the place we live. School backgrounds and sports. He tells me he was once going to travel the world but hasn't gotten to it yet. During this time Daisy warms to our new friend. He plays back at her.

 

"Are you married?" I ask.

 

He quits for a time and then replies no. It is hard to meet someone special. With work all the time and everyone there is spoken for. What about friends I ask. No not many there. Always kept to himself and doesn't like to impose.

 

I watch him pay for his meal and get up from his table of one and I realize as I watch him go that there are two types of lonely people. The angry, world is out to get me and they owe me something kind and then there are the types that are starved beyond belief for affection. Always eager to answer any kind of conversation with an enthusiastic answer. When out on casual time they are dressed nicely without over doing it. And I start to imagine in my preachy head that when they are at home they carry on conversations with people they hope will talk to them. Or maybe they sit by the phone dying inside for it to ring and practice answers about plans for the weekend that never arrive.

 

So I sit here in my self indulgent, self important, never alone but by choice life preaching about people I know nothing of and never do anything to make new people welcome in my life. And as I sat there in that restaurant thinking how lucky I am to have a beautiful wife who is understanding and smart and kind and quick to laugh and to have the most beautiful daughter in the history of evolution, who can turn any badness into a bag of happiness, I watch as the hostess sits a woman at the same table as our friend, alone.

 

Buy someone a ice cream and watch them eat it today

 

Say hello for no particular reason

 

Listen to Coltrane while flying