March 17th, 2020 at 10:10 AM
Saint Patrick's Day and the Illinois Primary
South Streator, Illinois
McDonalds sent out an email, saying we'll let
you order by application and pick up at the counter, but we cannot keep the
dining room open. How did the golden arches have my email? Sign up for the
McDonalds app, which I did to get deals on hot apple pies. Imagine all the
drinkers of senior coffee, showing up at the door, looking for a cup and a
conversation? I admit I'm flexible and I'll think of a way to score coffee and
wireless. I never really talk to people at McDonalds. I just write and answer
correspondence and try to look for opportunities.
All over the country, though, I walk into a
McDonald's for a quick lunch, looking for two cheeseburgers and I milk. I
notice the men wearing hats, the name of great ships on the panel or the name
of one of the American military services. They sit together at a round table
and share news of the world. These meetings cannot go forward today, cancelled
because the doors had closed for how long we don't know.
One time, I was working at Kaydon, a noted
contractor to the defense industry, and one man spotted my nametag.
"Kaydon? Is the factory busy? Lots of orders for Sikorski"? "You
know I can't talk about the book of business, friend. It's top secret". A
man demanded to know. "Is it true that you make the Jesus nut? The nut
that keeps the blades attached to the rotor?" "Well, that secret is a
one we'll keep between Kaydon and Jesus". They laughed; I picked up my
order. I went back to the office and unlocked my desktop with my secret
password.
Last night, the manager was talking with three
visitors, explaining to them, "I'm not sure our dining room is open. I'll
have to make a call". He did and he said to them, "You're all
right". The three sat down and were quickly enmeshed in conversation. A tall
young man walked in and began singing "Victory in Jesus, my Savior
Forever".
He had a nice voice and we all gave him our
attention. I like the song, to be frank. Finishing, he walked around the dining
room. He came up to me and said, "Can I pray with you"? I asked,
"Can you keep socially distant? Three feet is what the Center for Disease
Control recommends". "Sure". We bowed our heads, four feet apart
and he said, "Dear Heavenly father, I hope you will give to this man the
blessings you have laid upon my family and work a miracle in his life.
Amen". It doesn't hurt to share the rituals of different religions. I'm
not one to be a religious scoffer.
I felt sorry for not inviting him to sit down,
but I took an interest in him. He worked at the Vactor Factory, a company that
makes famous equipment for vacuuming up sewer lines and tanks of toxic
materials. He had just left work and he was making his missionary runs. I
learned he stops everywhere, from Walmart down to the Phillips 66 at the south
end of town. I have asked him, "Have you thought of going to seminary and
becoming a minister"? "No, I'm just fine, visiting my flock, up and
down Bloomington Road. It is what the lord has blessed me as my ministry".
On the south end of Streator, my cell has
difficulty accessing enough signal. I can write comments on Facebook but I
can't upload a TikTok, nor make a proper Facebook phone call. On the north end
of town by the Kroger, Walmart and Aldi, I can use all services. No bus
traverses the town of Streator, so for now I have the option of walking or
catching a ride. It's good for my health.
I tried reaching out to Domingo, the young man I
talked with in the observation car as we rolled along the Mississippi River. We
connected, but just long enough for him to say, "Hey, it's Wilbo from the
train. He probably doesn't know what happened to me at St. Louis. I thought I
was dying. I guessed he was in a clinic, and I tried to study the blurry image
for clues. The windows looked like normal hospital windows. He might have been
wearing a hospital nightgown. He was alive, and I hung up".
I left a text, which he hasn't picked up. Maybe
his generation doesn't text. "Domingo, I'm glad to see you are okay. I
walked the train & didn't see you; so I worried".
I still worry. He has once been spared, thanks
to the quick thinking of Amtrak staff and St Louis first responders. I was
sitting in the observation car, drinking wine with a professional rhetorician,
and she pointed out the ambulance and the gurney, all this happening behind my
right shoulder. I didn't know it was my second newest friend, in the midst of a
fight for his life.
I need to let her know that he has survived and
now engages in a fight for his life in a different key.
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