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The Pollyanna Reports, VII
Here’s to the Rheas of America — Our Real Strength.
This story is one of the reasons I started this series I have dubbed The Pollyanna Reports — to escape the utter banality and cruelty and inanity of our present world and look instead at the goodness of America. And yes, Virginia, there is much good in America, as hard as the media, politicians, academia, etc., strive to make us forget.
This is about something that happened to me this very morning. Briefly, the backstory — a couple of years ago, I was struck by a car in the parking lot of a local Waffle House here in Gulf Breeze, FL. Fortunately, the part of my body which hit the asphalt surface with the greatest impact was the hardest part of my body — my head. I was cared for very compassionately as I was laid out in the parking lot, especially by one of the nice ladies who worked there as a server. Her name was Rhea. She called My Lady the day after the incident to check on my status and I have always appreciated her kindness to us ever since. We have remained friends and enjoy chatting when I go there from time to time to get the best grits in the South.
Monday morning, as I had promised My Lady as one of her birthday presents (she’s a Halloween Baby!), I headed for that Waffle House to get one of her favorite breakfasts to go. Halfway there, I realized I had left cash and cards at home but decided to go on and simply beg them to trust that I would return with payment. Rhea overheard my pleading with the Manager and came over to me and said: “I’ll pay and you can repay me later but you need to get Judi’s birthday breakfast back to her while it’s still hot!”
How can I describe the way that started the Big Day for both of us?
The best tribute I can pay Rhea is this: as long as this country has people like Rhea, we will always have hope for the future of America and for better days ahead.
Thank you, Rhea, and God Bless you and God Bless America!
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The “Rheas” are not too hard to find, you may just have look a bit harder.
What a sweetheart! Glad she came to the rescue–twice!
Such people are actually the norm in America. It’s just that you’d never know it if you relied on anything other than direct experience to learn what Americans are like.
I wish we had a
Krasnovian embassyWaffle House up here in WNY. Denny’s is good but not the same. There is a splendid old fashioned breakfast joint in Gasport, just far enough away to be inconvenient, but I seldom have trouble talking myself into going.