Sweet Fellow I met this dear man when wandering the historic old town section of Zurich. He showed me the accordion his father once gave to him. He played a little tune. Tiny Accordion Before I met the shopkeeper, I had been studying his window display. I love small things and I was drawn to the miniature accordion, sitting near the Frog King. I spotted the man through the window. I had no idea what kind of shop this was, but I headed in, to inquire about the miniature instrument. The man reminded me of Gepetto. I half expected to find wooden puppets in his shop. He spoke no English, so we communicated with gestures and facial expression. Lots of laughing ones. I wish I had captured an image of his laughing face. I wanted to know if the little instrument was for sale. I'm not sure he understood, but he shook his head no. But then he smiled and reached for this beautiful accordion. I thought he would try to sell it for me. But he smiled and began to play. I applauded when he finished and he tried to tell me something about his accordion. The only bit that seemed clear was that his Papa had given him the instrument.
It was a short encounter on a chilly afternoon last November. There's not much of a story to tell, but this sweet musical man delighted me. I still am not sure what his shop was about. I study the picture and find little treasure here and there. Thanks for this little memory, my Swiss Musical Friend. I have a feeling we could have had a fun conversation if we'd spoken the same language. But actually, I think I prefer the encounter just as it was.
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Uncle Harold The town of Hot Springs has a lot character, with its history of healing waters and bathhouses. Knowing that, I hoped we might meet some curious locals when Don and I traveled there. We met a few, but the person I'll remember best was "Uncle Harry". He wasn't exactly a hillbilly from the Ozarks though. Harold was a retired chef from Italy. Quiet at Night It was a warm evening in September when Don and I wandered down from the Admiral Hotel, past the old bathhouses. I noticed a man dressed in a dapper, white suit and hat seated outside the Plaza Hotel. He might have been an interesting character. Belle Arti But it was inside this cozy little Italian restaurant where we met some folks sitting at the bar. Don had lots of questions for bartender Daniel, who had been serving up drinks for 25 years. I was intrigued with the gentleman seated at the end of the bar. He spoke with a charming Italian accent, with just about everyone. At one point, he left his seat and headed into the kitchen. A Chef The man in the white shirt came back carrying a steaming plate of fettuccine and a basket of bread. Daniel handed him a 7up and the man frowned and pointed to my glass. Daniel fetched him a glass of Pinot Noir, but the man fussed that it wasn't filled as high as mine. I laughed and we started talking. "You're Uncle Harold?" I asked, since everyone seemed to call him that. A few others jumped in to brag on Uncle Harold. "Uncle Harold was a big name chef in Chicago!" He'd moved from Italy to Chicago in the sixties, where he worked as a chef until the 1980's. I was eager to get the details of his career in the food world. I wanted to picture the restaurants where he worked and to know what his favorite dishes were and who taught him to cook. But Uncle Harold spoke fast and his accent made communication tricky. He got a little impatient when politely repeated his words for confirmation... "So you said you worked as a chef since the 1960's?" "Yes. That's what I just told you." From Lucca My ears started working better when he talked about Italy. When he said he grew up in the town of Lucca, I lit up. I had fond memories of visiting the magical village as a child. I told him I was 11, but I remember it well from my diaries and the postcards I bought there. He asked if I remembered old wall the surrounded town. He reminisced about how the city wall made Luccas so special. "We didn't have cars!" he recalled. And that reminded me of my childhood reaction to Venice which also didn't have cars. "I remember it felt like a kids playground, where we could roam and play without traffic and beeping horns! Old Postcards I wondered where my old postcard collection was and wished I could show a few to Uncle Harold. I found them when I returned from the trip and I wondered if Harold had gone to this Cathedral! Best Memory As we sat in that funny little bar, the 2 of us kept reflecting on our own memories of the same town. I asked if he knew of Villa Garzoni, which wasn't far from Lucca. The beautiful park, built in the 1600's, had a grand staircase and manicured gardens and fountains and waterways. He did know the park, that was in nearby Collodi, where the author of Pinocchio spent time in his childhood years. Uncle Harold seemed about the same age as my dad. In fact he laughed and joked in a way that reminded me of my father. So I shared the memory of my dad in that very garden, being tossed into the fountain by the students we were traveling with, from Florida State. I had seen him climb out laughing and dripping, but I worried to my mother. "Why would they...!" "Your dad is one of their favorite teachers." My mom tried to assure me.
So Thanks, Uncle Harold! It was fun to meet you and learn about you. But mostly you brought up forgotten memories of a place that seems like a vague dream. I've never met anyone from Lucca and you made me realize there really was such a magical place. I didn't make it up! She Caught my Eye Don and I were staying at the old CCC cabins in Big Bend National Park, last January. At breakfast, the lodge dining room was serving a few hikers and tourists like us, but there was one couple who seemed different. Both had cowboy hats and large belt buckles. When the woman removed her hat, a curl of white hair bounced into place on her forehead. There was something about the easy way they sipped their coffee that made me know this was not their first time here. I Need to Chat Once the couple was seated behind me, I couldn't really study them anymore. But I still felt like I just wanted to chat with these folks. I'm not sure why. Then I saw the woman get up and head for the buffet. Meet Up at the Fruit Bar I approached the fruit bar and opened the conversation with a stupid comment. "Now why would they have grated cheese at a fruit bar?" That's all it took. Nita was a talker and by the time I returned to the table I was able to tell Don the scoop. Nita was 84 years old and had lived in Terlingua, since she left work at a livestock research facility, in the '90's. Nita brought Ray over to meet us before they left. His hair was neatly slicked back in his leahter hat and his gentle Canadian accent oddly reminded me of Lawrence Welk. When they found out we would be in the Terlingua area in a few days, they playfully demanded we come for "2-for-1 burger night" at Starlight. "We'll be there at 5, when they open. They always have our seats and Bud Lites waiting for us!" When Nita and Ray headed off, I couldn't help but smile at their immaculate bluejeans, which I'm pretty sure had creases. I am more sure about the fact Nita fit her little jeans better than most young cowgirls today! At Starlight By the time Don and I reached Starlight on Monday night, the place was packed and we spotted Nita and Ray at the bar, sipping coffee. We grabbed beers, first. Before attempting to greet them, Nita had made her way over and playfully reprimanded us for not saying hello. She laughed and told us to bring our beers on over. For the next hour, Nita and Ray introduced us to every local in sight and by the time they hugged us good-bye (Nita reminded me that she doesn't do handshakes) they left us chatting with a crowd. One Last Encounter Nita happened to mention where she and Ray usually have breakfast. The Big Bend Cafe & Gas Station, up the road! It was our last morning in the area and we figured, why not? Almost every table was full when we arrived. It was a chilly morning and clusters of folks gathered around numerous tables, bundled in sweaters and jackets and warming hands on coffee mugs. There were cowboy hats and trucker hats and knit, hiker hats. Nita spotted us and she and Ray grabbed their mugs and moved over to some nearby chairs for a while. Once again, they made sure we met every person in the place, making us feel like we were part of the big breakfast gang. There were group discussions about the community and how new people sometimes move in with all their gripes and baggage and try to change things. We talked about Big Bend National Park and the possibility of cell service. "You miss the scenery when you're staring at your cell phone!" Nita laughed. Then she described a bear that climbed an electric pole, right at the lodge. "That thing hit the wires and just fried! Those young people with their cell phones just missed the whole thing!" Thanks Nita! I don't know about that bear story? But I loved the way you told it with your big charm and enthusiasm. After you left the Starlight on Monday, I wish you could have heard the good things the folks at the bar had to say about you. You are one of the most welcoming people I have ever met. I'm also not the only one who thinks you have a mighty cute figure. Just ask a couple of the younger gentlemen at the bar!
Aruba 2014 When I first spotted Melvin on the beach I groaned. I had been feeling so smug that Don and I had snagged the early boat to Flamingo Island and had all the flamingos to ourselves before the lazy tourists arrived. But when Melvin came closer with his wheelbarrow and rake, I couldn't help but greet the happy looking guy. "Beautiful Morning!" Melvin sighed as he looked out over the sand he was tending. I pointed to all the empty chairs and we wondered together why more people didn't get out and enjoy the best part of the morning. Flamingo Talk Melvin did more than tend to the sand. He handled the flamingos. I told him that my husband was having a bit of a hard time with one flamingo. I explained, "It's the one with the gauze wrapped around his neck. He seems to be lurking over him." Melvin shook his head, "Oh I need to fix that. He keeps trying to take it off. Those flamingos can really go after each other. I have to try to keep them from messing with their wounds." Then he chuckled and pointed to where Don was sitting. "The flamingos won't leave you alone if you sit under that palapa!" The palapa we had chosen, was the one that all the important guests sit under. "When the Queen of Holland visited, that's where she sat... The King of Aruba..." Melvin went on to tell stories about a rapper named Timberland who had his wedding on the island. He described a grand piano, on a floating island and all the body guards scattered about. I'm sure he had plenty more stories. Playing All Day I told Melvin, I couldn't believe he had a job where he got to walk on the beach and deal with beautiful flamingos all day. Then I felt bad because I used to resent it, when I taught preschool and heard comments like, "I wish I could play with kids all day." Best Job Ever But Melvin gave me 2 thumbs up and told me he loved working with the flamingos. Maybe more than the tourists sometimes. He assured me that he really did appreciate his job. That's a rare thing to hear.
Thanks, Melvin! That made me feel a little less guilty when I returned to my lounge chair and stared out at the turquoise water, as you worked. It made me happy to see someone who enjoyed his work! A Cafe Encounter I met Pete while having lunch in a small town diner, last October. That's not unusual, because my husband and I meet lots of folks in diners when we travel. But this encounter had so many connections to the past. Back to Eminence My first trip to this Missouri Ozark town, was in 1977. I was 19 and totally charmed by a farmer I met, named Freeman. My memories of Freeman lead to the creation of this very Stranger Blog! This is the link to my budy, Freeman! http://thebethlists.weebly.com/55-strangers/1-freeman-hughes-a-farmer-in-eminence-missouri Bob's Cafe I was with fellow college students when we entered the cafe in 1976 and struck up a conversation with Freeman. He was seated at a table, with his coffee drinking buddies. Where's the Cafe? I was sad to discover that Bob's was no longer a cafe. I so wanted to sit in the saggy vinyl booths and order the blue plate special, which was once $1.25 and strike up a conversation with a local. Ruby's Ruby's was the only place with an OPEN sign. When we entered at 1:30 the waitress was clearing out the buffet and it took her a long time to decide that it would be okay to order off the menu. As we settled into a corner table I began to recognize this building. I remembered this place as a cluttered general store, walls and shelves crammed with everything from chainsaws and canoe paddles to furs and guns. Meeting Pete Pete had finished his lunch and was listening, when Don asked the waitress what was good. Pete interrupted, "Everything!" It was clear that Pete had the time to chat. And we did. I couldn't help but notice Pete's overalls. They reminded me of the worn out pair Freeman wore when I met him. I asked Pete if he was local and then told him about my visit way back when. Freeman Of course Pete knew Freeman! In fact, Freeman's son Frank, had been Pete's teacher back in the early sixties. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around this. Pete was nearly the same age as Freeman, when I met him. How could Pete be young enough to be taught by Freeman's son? Then I remembered that I wasn't 19 anymore, sitting in this cafe. Pete jabbered on, answering my questions about what happened to the cafe and what it was like, living in Eminence now? Selling Wood Pete didn't seem much different than the small town folk I remember from nearly 40 years ago. He seemed content about his life, selling firewood from a big green truck. We finished up and said good-bye. I spotted his truck parked next to the Shannon County Jailhouse. The wood had been sold, but I saw his chair. "Sometimes I just park the truck beside the road till someone wants to buy some wood." he had told me. Thanks, Pete! I had felt a little sad pulling into the small town, that I remembered like a vague dream. It was nice to find someone who could verify my memories. And you told me Freeman's son still lives in town. He would be 87! If only I'd had time to meet him!
Soulard Market in St. Louis, Missouri When I first shopped this iconic market with my mom in the 1970's, I was intimidated by the serious produce vendors. But on a quiet weekday last fall, there were few stalls open and Mr. Simon wasn't a bit rushed. He was full of smiles and stories... while he pushed his produce! The Historic Market This Renaissance style building went up in 1921, but there have been farmers selling their produce, dairy and livestock on this land since it was just a meadow, in 1779. In the 1970's, there were no Yuppies or tourists shopping here. The "Grand Hall" was bustling with local shoppers. The smells of nearby Anheuser-Busch brewery seemed to follow you right inside, where the aromas from the spice shop and the bakery mingled with the less cozy smells of the meat market and fish shop. The Market Wings We only found a few vendors in the 4 wings that quiet morning. There were no chickens in crates or grumpy farmers telling you not to touch. Mr. Simon seemed pretty pleased to see us when we wandered down his way! He teased us into buying some veggies we had no use for on our road trip. "You need to buy some sugar cane!" he insisted when he heard we were from Sugar Land, Texas. We did. But he wasn't lauging when he pointed out the faded photo, high on the brick wall. It was a reunion photo and you knew family meant a lot to him. His buddy Joe wasn't family, but you could tell he treated Mr. Simon like a dad as he lifted crates and hauled boxes and made it clear that Mr. S shouldn't be lifting. Thanks, Mr. S! It was fun to chat with you and imagine you as a very young man, lifting boxes of vegetables and displaying fruit arrangements. Your boss probably didn't allow you the freedom to chit chat with the customers. You were a pleasant contrast to the grouchy farmers and vendors I remember from years ago!
San Diego Trip - April 2014 When I told my friend, Lorrie I would be staying at the iconic Del Coronado Hotel in on Coronado Island, she told me about the elevator guy. "Oh he's just wonderful! It's worth a visit to the hotel, just to have this guy give you a ride!' Not Too Shabby Don and I stay at a lot of quirky, not so ritzy hotels and inns when we travel. We don't need a lot of pampering or high star ratings to lure us. But we got some of those things on this trip and I'm not complaining. Mostly I loved the history of the hotel and the fact that one of my favorite movies, "Some Like It Hot" was filmed here in the 1950's. Otis Elevator But I also was pretty darn excited about riding on that old Otis elevator! A cage like elevator that required an operator! I kept my fingers crossed that the man Lorrie had raved about, might still be working there. Strategy There seemed to be so many people, with so many bags, waiting for the elevator in the lobby. I worried about having to share my ride with other tourists. I convinced Don, we should take a few flights of stairs and catch him on the way down. Me With Andrew When the our sweet operator, wearing his brown uniform with cap opened those golden doors on the fourth floor, I could see we had the box to ourselves! Andrew, as his tag clearly read, seemed a bit awkward for someone who must greet strangers 8 hours a day. "We've heard so much about you!" I grinned like a fan. He offered a nervous chuckle and sent our cage rumbling towards the lobby. "Where you from?" He sort of mumbled in a soft monotone. We answered Texas and he responded in the same tone, "Are you A & M Aggies?" We laughed and said no, that our kids had gone to UT. He seemed pleased as he focused his serious gaze at the elevator door and began to quietly sing UT's, "The Eyes of Texas are Upon You". We applauded and he tried to hide his awkward smile, as we traveled down to the lobby. Thanks, Andrew! Most of the elegant travelers who talk about their many stays at The Dell, probably talk about the grand service or the beach or the cone shaped roofs. But you, (with your round cap) are the first thing that comes to my mind. You were sweet and quiet and took your 40-hour a week job very seriously! You, more than anything or anyone, helped transport me back to a time of glamorous travel!
FYI... As it turns out, Andrew IS NOT the elevator man Lorrie remembered! How sweet to know there is more than one memorable elevator man! Near Lake Tahoe in 2012 On a chilly October morning, Don and I decided to brave the snow and hike the Rainbow Trail. We med Tom and his dog. A Quiet Morning The only other person we had seen was a photographer, shivering beside a couple of tripods near Taylor Creek. The camera guy had been trying to capture some of the wild life activity that occurs each fall during Kokanee trout spawning season. So were we. The year before we'd seen a mother bear and cub, enjoying some trout. A People Encounter Instead It was a surprise to suddenly come upon this man with no coat or gloves, standing beside a falling tree... sawing at the trunk. Tom acted like the last person you'd expect to see, sawing a fallen Aspen in the woods. He laughed about the silliness of his technique, but he was a retired lawyer and was obeying the law. He said permits were needed and you could only use a saw. It took a long time to get through this small trunk with the saw he had. It looked more like a serrated bread knife. Tom's Friend Don (bundled up with hat and gloves) asked Tom why he wasn't dressed more warmly. He just laughed and shook his head. "When I first moved here I brought all my cold weather gear..." I think he was from Chicago. "I never wear it. It never gets that cold." But he was worried about his dog who was waiting in the car. I had to just laugh when he opened the car door and out popped a little Dachshund, sporting an orange knit sweater! Lilly I had expected to see a Golden Retriever or a Lab, jump out of the vehicle. But this sweet little pup with her delicate name Lilly, just charmed me! Thanks Tom! It was fun to talk to you out there in the snow. You gave us a different idea on retirement, besides hanging out at country clubs. As you carried your few logs to the car, I tried to picture your wood burning fireplace. I imagined some comfy rustic furniture and lots of shelves of books and a cozy dog pillow for Lilly.
Schulenburg, Texas Brent wasn't really a haunted singer. But I did have a rather eerie encounter with this young man. It was outside the Von Minten Hotel, a couple of weeks ago. Road Trip My husband and I were on an 8-day road trip, in search of curious historic hotels. Years ago I'd heard about the Von Minden, with it's haunted history. When we drove through town recently, I made Don pull over and let me take a peek. Peering In As I approached the building, I assumed the hotel had closed down. The attached movie theatre next door, was obviously out of business and there was nothing that invited a customer to enter. I tried the door and when it opened, I assumed it was okay to walk in. A breeze was blowing through the open windows and the light over the lobby desk was on. I hollered a polite "Hello!" and heard no reply. I called out again and thought I heard voices, but they could have been coming through the open windows. A Closer Look I'm not sure how I could be so brave, because the place was a little creepy. It looked like a hotel from the Twilight Zone, suddenly abandoned and left untouched. There was an old cash register and a few mailboxes. The key boxes were empty, except for a few random items. One looked like a calculator, or a remote control. There were letters and papers cluttering the counter and a few dusty rockers sitting in front of the windows. A wooden phone booth with a payphone, was tucked back by the stair landing. Movie House Not long ago I read that you could stay in the hotel and even catch a movie next door. But when I peeked in the locked doors of the movie house, I could see the tiny lobby was out of use. An old white painted candy machine revealed some candy bars behind the glass windows. You could hardly recognize Humphrey Bogart and Clark Gable, on the faded movie posters. Meeting Brent As I started to head for the car, I saw this young man walking towards the front door. I asked if the hotel was open for business and he said he and a few others were living there. Somehow the idea of a haunted boarding house was even more unsettling to me than a haunted hotel. "Do you want to know if it's haunted?" He asked, as if assuming that was why I was curious. I said yes I did wonder and he answered with a positive, "Yes." Then he told me that just yesterday he'd been in his room and his deodorant just lifted off the dresser and flew across the room. "Wow!" I said, turning to make sure Don was in full view. He went on to explain that he was staying in town a while, helping his grandparents. He had recently gone into Houston to audition for "America's Got Talent" and was starting to worry since he hadn't heard news yet. He said the morning for his audition, he'd witnessed another sign of spirits, when he looked at the bathroom mirror. The words "Good Luck" were written on the glass. He talked about his music. He'd been singing since 5 and writing music since 14. The 23 year old said he'd just recorded the song "Yesterday" for YouTube and his musician grandfather, (who does a mean version of Wipe Out on the drums at age 70) said he sounded just like John Lennon. I asked his name in case I saw him on TV. He said he was Brent and he posed for a photo so I could recognize him. He said he was hoping to catch the Greyhound to Houston soon, I didn't mention that we lived there. I think he could have talked for days, but I said I needed to get going. Thanks, Brent You gave me some insight into the curious hotel I've wondered about. The slumber party kid in me, imagines staying in a haunted hotels and squealing over ghost stories. But you might have cured that. I wish you luck with your music. It's actually nice to picture you helping out with your grandparents and playing music with your grandad. I wish I could find your YouTube video and give some support. As a special note... When Don and I drove away, we could see the advertisement written on the side of the hotel. We were curious and followed the directions to find Sengelmann Hall, to see what the Bakery/Restaurant/Dance Hall was all about. We met the wonderful owner who said he also owns the hotel and hopes to get the money to fix it up, along with the movie theatre. He was a pretty delightful guy actually and I wouldn't be surprised if someday I do return and find a lovely Boutique Hotel. Now that would be fun.
Rosenberg, Texas When I met J, I wasn't shopping. I was walking to an area of antique shops and I paused to snap a cell phone shot of this iconic Malt-N-Burger Drive In. J's Shop I was standing on the sidewalk taking my (very poor) photo across Highway 90, when I heard a chuckle behind me. J was putting out a display of merchandise to attract shoppers. She was curious about why I was taking a photo of the burger place and we began talking... for 25 minutes! Rosenberg Memories Julia liked it that I was curious about the community of Rosenberg and what it was like years ago. She said she grew up on a farm in nearby Needville and remembered coming to Rosenberg for family outings. She told me about a café called Roses that had the best burgers. "6 for a dollar and the best malts!" She was happy to know I had actually eaten at Malt-N-Burger once. But now that I'm in the know, I'll order chicken fried steak, next time! Then she talked about shopping around the corner, at the best store for western wear. And how disappointed she was when they removed the old gas pumps from the station across the street. Cole Theatre She remembered going to the old Cole Theatre around the corner, for 25 cents. The theatre had separate entrances and concessions for black and white guests. "I remember when I was little, the blacks had to sit up in the balcony." That memory seemed to take her back to her life growing up on the farm, when the workers in the fields were African American. "I was the water girl!" She shared almost proudly. I'm not sure how often or how much water she carried to the workmen, but she seemed to recall the job favorably. She laughed about how sometimes she would get teased. "They would pull my braids! They thought I was Mexican." She told me proudly she was Indian. There was so much I wanted to ask, but there wasn't a moment to get a word in. Her Daddy She talked about her daddy and how she was his favorite. Then she shared a sad story of how her father was killed as a result of rushing to help, when a small plane crashed on the farm back in the '60s. "It was all over the news." The pilot and his pregnant woman couldn't be saved and her father died weeks later, as a result of inhaling the fumes. Our conversation was interrupted when the mailman arrived. "Sorry!" J apologized to the mailman as he headed inside. "You aren't going to get much cooling relief today. I just turned on the air-conditioner." I smiled to myself, wondering how many stories the mailman had heard. After he left, Julia turned her focus back to fixing up the display of used purses and shoes. She chuckled about how she liked to make it nice, so the sale items just spoke out to potential customers walking by. "You know you want to take me home!" She laughed as she did the voice for a flower vase. I asked if I could take her photo and she smiled, "Help yourself!" Thanks, J. We stood their dripping in the humid morning sun, chatting beside the not so attractive highway. But it felt like we were two characters in small town Mayberry, just gossiping the day away. You were a delight as you recalled your favorite diners and shops and people. You didn't whine about how it used to be. You smiled with your memories and set up your display of goods, with such pride. You reminded me that it's possible to enjoy the moment, even when the weather's not ideal and the scenery is far from perfect. |
FIFTY-FIVE
STRANGERS To celebrate my birthday in April 2012, I decided to reflect on the past with a different kind of list. I've met a lot of people in my 55 years, but I'm going to stop and remind myself about the strangers I've met. These are people I met by accident, not through friends or work. For some reason, these strangers dropped into my life. Even though we may have only spent a few minutes together, these people have never been forgotten. Each week, I'll spotlight someone I met in the past, who in some small way, made me stop and think. MY GOAL: Remember 55 Strangers Archives
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