[lit-ideas] Sunday Story
- From: David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sun, 23 Jan 2011 18:20:25 -0800
Carrying General Sherman's biography and a styrofoam cup full of water, I
selected a table at the cheap Chinese lunch place. There was good light. I
settled into Sherman's youth, absently spooning food as I went. Because it's
an engrossing tale, I was very slow to notice the charming little fellow
standing right beside my table. His eyes did not quite reach rice level. With
the regal manner of one who has a right to demand anything of anyone, and
apparently curiosity to match, he asked, "Are you eating?" Believing that such
people deserve the truth, I said, "Yes, I am." He smiled and walked on. I
returned to reading. Within about a paragraph's length, he was back, this time
with a soda in his hand and a mother in tow. He scrutinized me carefully.
"Are you still eating?" Here I began to wonder if he was implying criticism,
but no, his small face and very large eyes showed none. "Yes," I said, "I am
still eating." He contemplated this answer for a moment before deciding that
it would suffice. His mother followed him down the aisle, like a bridesmaid
carrying a train. When I finished lunch, my path to the exit passed close to
his table. I stopped to ask, "Are *you* eating?" He was not sure that people
of my station should be addressing people of his station so directly, but
eventually he responded, "Yes." I pushed my luck, "Is it good?" He thought for
a while, "Yes." I addressed his mother, "When I was his age, and out with my
parents, I'd talk with strangers." She smiled. What I didn't then tell her is
I once asked a woman why she had a face like Popeye. I believe her son yet
might.
David Ritchie,
Portland,
Oregon------------------------------------------------------------------
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