Stu

Stu just moved into New Pointe and he looks like a grumpy gus but I finally sat at his dinner table.

Seating in the dining hall is fairly regimented. And yet not so much as seems at first glance. You are assigned to a seat at a particular table. There are as many as six and as few as two people assigned to a table (one poor soul insists on sitting by herself). Your name is put on a little stand and there you are. You can request to move and it will be granted.

I have decided to not be assigned anywhere and instead, rotate from table to table every meal. It makes it more interesting and the residents seem to like it.

So tonight I found myself sitting down to dinner with Stu. He sounds gruff only because he is a large man of some eighty years or so and he grew up in the American Southwest. I asked about his childhood. He told a beautiful tale, beautifully told with a strong voice. "I was a 'widow's child' (I assume that means that his father died before he was born). There was talk of 'giving up the boy'. But my uncle came one day and told my mother 'He's your boy and you raise him. Find a way and stop this talk of 'giving up the boy'. He's yours and you raise him."

I couldn't help myself and verbally punched the air, saying "Good for your uncle". Stu didn't stop his story but acknowledged the sentiment. "And so there was no more talk of 'giving up the boy'. My mother did home baking and I went out once a week and sold donuts in the neighborhood."

"Eventually she took in two nephews that were ready to graduate from high school and even a neighbor boy."

Stu spoke with such dignity and conviction that it was very moving and yet simple. The simple story of the poor, to paraphrase Lincoln.

Dinner was very good with shrimp and tortelinnni. Stu only added to the food but it was all the better for him.