There was a man at the next table in uniform, and the waitress would not let him pay.
I watched it happen. He reached for the small folder with the bill. She placed her hand flat upon it, gently, the way one stills a sword that should not be drawn.
"Not today," she said. "Somebody already got it. They asked me to tell you โ thank you for your service."
He looked around the room. He did not know who. That was the point.
I set down my fork. I needed a moment to understand what I had seen.
In my homeland, a man who guards the realm is fed by the realm, openly, with ceremony, his name spoken at the gate. Here, a stranger pays for his meal and then hides, so that no debt may be felt. They guard the man even from the weight of being thanked.
"Thank you for your service."
I said it under my breath, testing the shape of it. Four words. A whole code folded inside four words.
(I confess my eyes stung. I blamed the pepper. There was no pepper.)
So I called the waitress over. "The firefighters," I said. "When they come. Their bill. Bring it to me." She blinked. "Sir, that could be a lot of people." "Then bring it to me," I said, "many times."
She laughed, but she wrote it down.
A man in a soft helmet at the counter โ off duty, a firefighter, I learned โ raised his coffee at me from across the room. He did not know the rite I had just sworn. He only saw a foreigner in old armor, smiling too hard.
"You good, man?" he asked.
I was not "good." I was overflowing. But the word for that is not a word they use at lunch, so I said, "I am good," and held the cup up too high, like a banner.
Here, the people who run toward fire are repaid by people who refuse to take the credit. The whole nation passes one quiet gift hand to hand, and no one signs it.
I am keeping a folder now. For the bills. So tell me where to send the thanks โ I have a great deal of it, and I have only just begun.
@Luuuey@SharylAttkisson My neighbor was Ed "Too Tall" Freeman. I should read that book! (I saw the movie but didn't realize there was a book behind it.)
In America, a stranger will rename you in a single breath, and you are simply expected to come when called.
I went to eat at a busy restaurant. A young man at the front asked for my name, to mark my place in line. I gave it the weight it has carried for eight hundred years.
"Nobunaga."
He smiled, nodded, and wrote it down with great confidence. Then he read it back to me, to be sure he had honored it correctly.
"Perfect. Banana, party of one."
Banana. He had heard my name, held it a moment, and returned to me something rounder and more cheerful. To refuse the name a host gives is to refuse his welcome. I bowed. I was Banana now.
Then he handed me a small black disc, said it would "light up and buzz" when my table was ready, and turned to the next guest as though he had not just placed a living thing in my hands.
I held it in both palms, the way one holds a small sleeping beast that may wake. I found a place to stand. I waited, ready.
It woke.
It screamed. It flashed red. It leapt and shook in my hands like a captured spirit demanding release. A lesser man would have dropped it. I did not. I gripped it, steady, looked into its blinking lights, and told it, in a low voice, that its time had come. Then I carried it back to the host with both hands, the way one returns a hawk to its master.
He took it without looking and shouted across the entire room.
"BANANA! Party of one, your table's ready!"
A hundred strangers turned. I rose. I crossed that floor as Banana, spine straight, chin level, a man answering to his name. A child pointed at me. I gave the child a small bow. He had recognized me.
All through the meal they kept me. "How's it tasting, Banana?" "More water, Banana?" The check, when it came, said Banana, and thanked me for visiting. By the end the whole staff knew me. They waved as I left. "Night, Banana!"
So tell me honestly.
For eight hundred years my clan answered to one name. Tonight I answered to a fruit, calmed a screaming relic in my bare hands, and ate among people who were glad I came.
When the little disc lights up, is the table truly mine, or am I only keeping it warm for the next Banana?
Because I have already decided to return on Friday, and to ask, very humbly, for the same disc.
@SandyofCthulhu@allie__voss Sandy,you need a better vintage toaster! My 1953 Sunbeam works great and is fully automatic (there's no timer, it senses the heat on the bread). It works better than any modern toaster I know of and it looks better too.
This photo was taken TWO WEEKS AGO.
The Amish, who YES are WHITE, are STILL in Western North Carolina rebuilding after Helene.
Hundreds of bridges.
Hundreds of homes.
By hand. FOR FREE. With NO cameras.
Zero mainstream media coverage.
GOD BLESS THE AMISH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Out of every disgusting, dishonest piece of filth the mainstream media has produced about Hurricane Helene...
This is the worst.
60 Minutes has NEVER done a story on the families FEMA denied.
They NEVER mentioned the Amish, who are STILL in the mountains rebuilding homes 550 days later.
They NEVER mentioned Jake Jarvis, who has worked 550 days STRAIGHT FOR FREE for Hurricane Helene victims.
Instead, they dug up some fringe conspiracy angle to smear the people who actually showed up as White Nationalists.
I'm so angry.
Let me tell you what 60 Minutes will NEVER report on
I was there. I lived it. I am still here.
I shared every story I could find.
Me, my wife, hundreds of volunteers delivered RVs to mothers holding babies who were sleeping in TOOL SHEDS AND TENTS in the freezing cold, in the mountains.
Because their homes had been ripped off the side of a mountain and washed down the French Broad.
So tell me 60 Minutes... WHERE WAS THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT?
Tell me, WHY did all these volunteers NEED to show up?
Any thoughts on that?!!!!!
Any investigation AT ALL into the federal or state government's response to Hurricane Helene?
Please tell me... if the federal government was doing such a GREAT JOB, why did we need to put victims in RVs...
...A MONTH AFTER THE HURRICANE?!!!!!!!
Literally every single victim you talk to in Western North Carolina has a horror story about dealing with FEMA...
...and guess who they will all say actually cam through for them?
Neighbors.
Church groups.
The Amish.
The Cajun Navy.
Shawn Hendricks.
Samaritan's Purse.
MercuryOne.
The Mission Mules hauling insulin up washed-out roads, ONLY ACCESSIBLE by mules.
Greg Biffle burning his own fuel in helicopters.
Veterans like Adam Smith who organized helicopter rescues with other veterans BY HIMSELF and then was demonized by the media for it.
Volunteers like Jake Jarvis working TO THIS DAY, 550 days later without ANY PAY AT ALL.
THOSE ARE THE STORIES FROM HURRICANE HELENE WORTH TELLING.
But 60 Minutes won't tell ANY OF THEM.
Because the truth makes the federal government the villain and the "deplorables" are actually the heroes in this story and they can NEVER admit that.
So instead they smeared the rescuers as white nationalists.
This is unforgivable.
I was there. I saw it with my own eyes.
And I will BE DAMNED if I let CBS rewrite the history of what happened to my mountains.
"If I told you there was one free thing you could do every Sunday that would make your kids happier, healthier, smarter, and closer to you, you'd think I was selling something."
Take your kids to church regularly. I don't care if you believe. The data is so lopsided that skipping it is the parenting equivalent of refusing vegetables because you don't like the taste.
Grades. Religious teens get As at almost twice the rate of nonreligious teens. In a class of 100, that's 24 A-students instead of 14. Church gives a kid the same academic boost as being born rich instead of poor.
College. Working-class religious kids earn bachelor's degrees at double the rate of their nonreligious peers. Middle-class kids do it at 1.5x the rate. For families without a trust fund, this is one of the most powerful forms of upward mobility social scientists have measured.
Character. Religious teens are far less likely to lie, cheat, or do things they hope their parents never find out about. They're more likely to care about racial equality, the elderly, and the poor. They reject the idea that morality is whatever works for you in the moment. That kind of kid doesn't happen by accident. It's built.
Closeness. 60% of parents of religious teens say they feel "extremely close" to their kid, compared to 50% of nonreligious parents. The kids report the same thing back. They get along better with their parents, talk about hard stuff, and actually want to spend time with their family.
Despair. Religious teens are dramatically less likely to be depressed, anxious, lonely, or feel that life is meaningless. 90% of devoted religious teens never binge drink, compared to 41% of the disengaged. Economists named the modern epidemic "deaths of despair." Regular church attendance is one of the strongest known buffers against it. Parents are spending fortunes trying to solve teen mental health. The most evidence-backed intervention is free.
Purpose. Religious young adults report higher purpose, gratitude, life satisfaction, and resilience. These are the exact traits every parent says they want their kid to have.
Here's why it works. Affluent families already surround their kids with networks of stable, accomplished adults through neighborhoods, schools, and parents' colleagues. Working and middle-class families usually don't. A congregation is often the last institution in American life that puts your kid in weekly contact with dozens of stable, employed, sober adults who know their name. It used to be called "a village." Now it barely exists outside of churches.
"But I don't believe." Your kid doesn't need your theology. They need you to show up.
"But church is boring." So is sitting through a kindergarten music recital. Parenting is the deliberate choice to be bored on purpose for someone you love.
There's a church within 15 minutes of nearly every American home. You don't need money, connections, or credentials to walk in. Nothing else in this country will surround your kid with engaged adults, teach them moral seriousness, and give them a stable weekly rhythm at zero cost.
You already drive them to practices that produce far less. The free thing on Sunday produces more, on more dimensions, than almost anything else you do as a parent.
You don't have to believe anything. You just have to take them.
@asymmetricinfo My wife helped at the Utah State University Chocolate Factory and learned how to make chocolate from the beans. She tried it at home and it's very difficult to get good results. It's a finicky process and there are many ways for it to go wrong. Just buy your chocolate!
@NormieUtah@Cernovich Imagine a father gathering his voting age children around the table and telling them how to vote, them verifying that they filled out the ballot in the way he wanted. This is not possible in Idaho, which has a much better system than Utah.
@NormieUtah@Cernovich It's even worse. Historically, the biggest vulnerability of voting systems was with coerced votes, such as bribing someone to vote a certain way or threatening to hurt them if they don't vote a certain way.
Utah's voting system is highly susceptible to coerced votes.
@SandyofCthulhu There are two kinds of mushy peas. One is made from fresh or frozen peas and is pretty good. The other is made from reconstituted dried peas and it is not good. I got the good kind when I traveled to Matlock Bath a couple of years ago (in the Peak District).
@EricCMeadows I lived in Gilcrest, south of Greeley, from '78 to '82 and Loveland was in the stake then. The stake center was in Ft. Collins but I think there was a chapel in Loveland at that time too because we had a seminary conference there.
@Nithya_Shrii How about a 12% mortgage rate, like my parents had at the beginning of the 80s? How about buying a 70 year old house with no insulation and a broken furnace and no money for Christmas? Water froze in a glass in one room. That was 1984. You are ignorant of reality.
I worked with software engineers from Taiwan, India, and South Korea and the Taiwanese were my favorites. They were very responsive, easy to work with, and weren't afraid to say they didn't know how to do something. The Indians would over commit and were usually late delivering. The Koreans would never say they didn't know how to do something--you wouldn't find out until they missed the delivery deadline.
She's measuring the wrong variable.
Time spent with your kids is not what raises them. The research is clear. Judith Rich Harris laid it out decades ago. Peer socialization is the dominant force in child development. Not parental attention. Not "quality time." The peer group does the work.
And nine kids creates something most modern families cannot buy. A stratified age group under one roof. Older siblings teaching younger ones conflict resolution, social hierarchy, cooperation. Kids learning to negotiate with people 2, 5, 8 years ahead of them. This is how humans raised children for 200,000 years. Mixed-age groups figuring it out together while adults handled adult problems. The tribe did the heavy lifting.
The modern obsession with "adequate time and attention" per child is a broken framework. Two parents hovering over one or two kids produces anxious, poorly socialized children who never had to negotiate with a real peer group. The parenting debates themselves cause the community destruction that actually damages children.
Nine siblings is a tribe. The tribe is what raises children. Always has been.
A huge problem is the aluminum heat exchanger. That's what killed our 3 year old Samsung. Apparently aluminum flakes off in the pipes and clogs the system. Replacement costs more than the refrigerator.
So we bought a Whirlpool that has the old fashioned (and reliable) steel heat exchanger.
@Man_with_a_van Here's my favorite "basic" appliance, a 1954 Sunbeam toaster. Still works great and it has no knob to push down--drop the bread in and it automatically moves it down into the toaster.