A True Gentlemen

by | Aug 5, 2010 | 0 comments

That is what you were Dan. I know it, and I’m pretty sure anyone else who’s met you knows it.

You carried my purse, any other bags I had, even my new very flowery diaper bag.
When we lived in the city, you were forever helping young mothers carry their kids and strollers up the subway stairs. It started to bother me because it was such a regular thing.
You always wanted to treat everyone to dinner even though we had no money- when we went out with my parents, you’d be so sneaky- saying you had to go to the bathroom and actually going to give your credit card and pay the bill ahead of time.
You always struck up a conversation with cab drivers- especially if their nationality hinted that they might have an interest in soccer.
You cut up pieces of whatever meal you were having and put it on my plate if we went out for a nicer meal – saying “Try this!”
Every time we ate out Asian style, you folded my disposable chopsticks wrapper into a little origami type stand for my chopsticks without my even noticing until I went to get them.
You took my hand as I got off the bus, or as we crossed the street…putting your arm to the side to tell any eager cars making turns to wait…
tugging me along…
behind you.

JAC

August 5, 2010
v

0 Comments

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published.

You May Also Like…

December 17, 2014- A New Blog

It has been almost a year and a half since I last wrote on this blog.  In my mind, this blog was complete.  And yet, there was a lack of finality to it.  Grief has no finality, though it does have evolution and change, while this blog does have finality simply because...

Speed of Light

On the eve of your death I am watching town fireworks the day after the fourth of July. I am overwhelmed by the crowd of families around us on blankets with glo-sticks and cotton candy as we wait for darkness in the still, hot, summer air.  There is a Korean...

Father’s Day 2013

Father’s Day 2013

This is the third time.  It is brutal.I haven't felt it helpful or complex enough to say, "It's not fair; it's just not fair," in the past three years.  But on this day, I think those words a lot. Unless your young child has lost a parent, you cannot imagine...