I’m reprinting this from my friend Debby’s Facebook post because I want to remember it forever, and because her experience is a microcosm of so much in my Life right now.
I went to my favorite watering hole today for an early dinner.
Amantes has suffered from lack of clientele since two people were shot in their outside patio but it’s MY bar and I am a loyal patron.
There were only a handful of people in the bar and my favorite seat was empty and available.
I sat down next to a couple in their 60s, maybe 70s. The woman smiled and greeted me with a hearty ‘Hello ‘ when I planted myself on my favorite barstool.
I ordered something off menu.Its not that I did not have many choices to satiate my pallet from their rather expansive menu. Tonight I wanted my go to sub from the deli I frequented when I had my shop in Oella.
Chalk it up to nostalgia or some craving that I have been trying to fulfill since I closed my shop some 20 years ago. I was longing for connection.
The man sitting next to his wife was reading the menu to her and explaining the options he thought she would like in what the feminist in me,thought was very condescending, controlling and offensive.
When the bartender asked them what they would like he said ‘ My wife would like the flatbread special and a salad with the house dressing.’
His wife sat there in silence as he ordered lasagna and another glass of wine for his wife.
She glanced at me now and then and smiled. I felt like asking her if she was OK, did she need help, a rescue from this controlling dominant man who had the audacity to tell her what she wanted to eat.
Their food arrived with mine and it changed everything. He very patiently, even lovingly, described the food in front of her, helped her choose the right utensil and at that moment I knew them.
I watched her fold her napkin over and over again until it was a little square. Her husband watched patiently until she was done and asked her if she was ready to leave. Did she want another glass of wine? She didn’t understand what he was asking as he put his hand on her arm and said ‘OK, let’s go home. Check please.”
For over a year now my wife and I have cared for my mother in law who is in the advanced stages of dementia. I have watched her steadily decline, unable at times to recognize her daughter, struggling with the use of basic utensils. It is hard for me to witness and is devastating and so painful for my wife, her daughter.
What I witnessed tonight was not a controlling jerk of male patriarchy. It was a man who truly loved his partner, his companion. Someone who wanted to recreate a piece of the life they once had in a dive bar in Eldersburg.
None of us knows what life holds for us in the future. I only my hope that someone cares enough for me when my mind fades to take me to that dive bar and order my favorite food. Someone who still wants a date night and will take me home at the end of the day.
Debby St Charles
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