As I mentioned yesterday, Zai was sick. As such, I relieved her of cooking duties and picked up dinner on the way home. It was snowing outside, turning my usual commute into nearly two-hours. But my bosses understand my commute and generally let me leave early when weather turns sour. So I’m still able to arrive at home around the normal time.
I stopped at Subway, where this Indian guy and hispanic girl always worked, I was becoming something of a regular to them. I only go there once every couple of weeks or so, but it’s remarkably easy to become a regular when you’re friendly and actually talk to the people who serve you food. And I will say that they make the best sandwiches out of all the Subways I’ve visited.
I asked for a sandwich I’ve never had before, and asked it to be prepared just like the picture, which ended in us both looking at the picture and guessing what toppings and condiments were on it.
As watched her prepare my sandwich, as was the norm, a group of police officers filed in and began ordering their sandwiches. They too were polite and courteous to the people behind the counter. In fact, the hispanic girl knew their orders before they said them.
I’ve always had a great amount of respect for police officers, when they’re not behind my car with their lights on. I know there’s a lot of corruption and crooked cops out there, but I don’t think that changes the fact that there are a lot of those who put their lives on the line to ensure that people are safe.
After I left the subway, I walked to my car and set my sandwich down on the passenger seat. I looked up to see the officer who was behind me in line sitting down with his sandwich in the window (it was a vegatarian sub, if anyone was curious), and he clasped his hands to his forehead. He stayed in this position for several moments until raising his head and beginning his meal. He was saying grace.
I’ve never said grace, and the few times I heard it at the dinner table (my stepmother and stepsister are Catholic), it was routine and nothing more, said with lifeless intonations. But when I saw the officer do it, there was reverence there. I guess in a dangerous line of work, having a little faith can help.
It just made me think at the end of a long day.
Zel-kun out.
Julie Scott | 15-Jan-08 at 3:27 pm | Permalink
We generally make it a policy to say grace before we eat in our house, I find it a nice humbling reminder that the food does not have to be there, and whatever else may be going on, at least we have food on the table and a roof over our heads, but I must admit it’s a hard practice to keep up in the outside world. I often myself worried that I’ll draw attention to myself. (As an aside - I don’t know why I’m so paranoid about that.) More power to that police officer.