A Tale of the Generous Spirit

One summer during college I worked at Mickel’s – that landmark restaurant of Shelby County with the cheery orange and yellow facade on the corner of 12th and Chatburn. Decadent fried rolls. Homemade sweet salad dressing which was clearly the best condiment in the house. Mickels (may it rest-in-peace) was a local treasure. I still think fondly of my time there, remembering the fun environment and, of course, the fried rolls.

There was an elderly couple that came in fairly frequently. Okay, there were a lot of elderly couples who came there frequently. But this particular couple was iconic to the waiting staff. The man was a dear, gentle soul with an adorable smile. And his wife? Oh my goodness. I’m not sure there are words. Maybe the best way to describe her would be this: a fire-breathing dragon lady.

As he would try to make friendly small-talk, she would interrupt with a spitting, “I want a cheeseburger.” Then she would tell him to shut up and order. As she growled, he continued to chuckle in a polite way. She never liked her food. He always complimented. And when it came time to pay the bill, she made darn sure he wasn’t going to leave a tip. Somehow, he always managed to hide a little something under the placemat.

You know what I think about when I remember that old couple? The kind soul of the old man. It easily eclipses the fire of the dragon lady.

Here’s the thing. Kindness is powerful. I loved waiting on that couple – we all did. Because Mr. Kindsoul was inspiring. The poor guy lived in hell, but you’d never know it. His response to his situation seemed to be patience and generosity.

In our household lives a soon-to-be 16-year-old boy. I’m not sure if any of you have experience with teenage boys, but they don’t always think. As a matter of fact, it’s been proven scientifically that teenager brains are not fully developed. But, when Cole forgets to shut off a hydrant and lets water run all night, our knee-jerk is not to remember that he can’t help his folly. We are ready to chew some ass. 

“Cole! What kind of dumb-ass move was that? You gonna pay the water bill next month?”

Cole feels terrible. I feel terrible. I’m thinking Doug feels kind of bad too, but I’m not sure fathers experience mom-guilt like we do.

Maybe patience and kindness is the answer. What would be so wrong with this?

“Cole. The weirdest thing happened – the hydrant was left on overnight. Any thoughts on how that might’ve happened? Ha ha!” 

Okay. Maybe no ha ha. Cole would still feel horrible, but I’m thinking he’d appreciate our gentle approach. And we all would move on to the next thing. Unless, it happened again. Then I’d probably emerge into Mrs. Dragonlady.