To the editor:
On the evening of June 25, my family and I celebrated a belated Father’s Day supper at the Greenfield Applebee’s. My son had wanted to take me out to dinner for Father’s Day, but my wife was under the weather at the time, so we waited until she was feeling better.
On the way home I dashed into Walmart to grab some ice cream to top off a great meal. Only one person was ahead of me in the checkout line. A young man with his son was buying groceries and some kid’s clothing. I placed two half-gallon containers of ice cream on the belt behind his things and waited patiently while the cashier completed scanning and bagging his items.
While waiting, another man passed by and noticed the Vietnam veteran ball cap I was wearing. He stopped, turned and walked over to shake my hand and thank me for serving. Those moments are always deeply appreciated, but when the man in line in front of me got ready to pay for his things, he leaned over, said something to the cashier and nodded toward me. At which point, she promptly scanned and bagged my ice cream and handed it to me. It took me a moment to comprehend what was going on. It was so unexpected!
I remember the stories my father had related to me as a child about his return home after WW II. He could not pay for a meal, a movie ticket, a beer or a haircut without someone stepping up and paying for him. Today, 50 years after my return back in ’68, I finally learned first hand how that must have felt. Thank you again sir, whoever you are!
Bob Wheatley
Carthage
