Beast? Fish? Fowl? Republican?

'A' was ill and Christo-pee decided to stay home with her. So 'L', Betsy Ross and I headed for Yuki's- a good but not great Japanese restaurant that has become one of our comfortable favorites. 

Not long after we arrived a man in a wheelchair came in from the rain.He had longish, snow-white hair, a very prominent nose and enormous eyeglasses with thick, black frames. He was wearing a bohemian beret, tuxedo pants and a pair of orthopaedic shoes of which the right had a sole at least 3 inches thicker than the left. He appeared to be an "artsy" sort, perhaps a musician or poet.

 He wasn't a regular, as he was asking the waitress basic questions about the menu. He was very frail and had been recently ill, as there was a hospital bracelet hanging from the arm of his chair and I noticed a "dot" band-aid on the back of his right hand, just like the ones nurses apply after you've received an IV. I'm telling you, this was a made-for-Lifetime-TV movie in the making. 

This vignette was killing 'L.' Though she may come across as an unsentimental, emotionally hardened bitch, this was a scene that could reduce her to a soggy heap of weeping guilt and shame. I, too, felt for this man who was alone on Thanksgiving and probably every other day of the year as well.

We told the waitress that we would like to pick up his tab. It wasn't as if we thought he couldn't  afford his dinner; we were hoping that when he discovered our plan, it might determine wether we should invite him to join us or if it would be clear he wanted to be by himself. We also told the waitress to tell him  that we would like to buy him  a drink, dessert or anything else he would like.

After he had eaten his entree, the waitress told him we had taken care of the check. He turned to us and said, "But why?." 

I replied, "Because it's Thanksgiving!"

He accepted my explanation and later ordered a dessert, thinking that he would buy it himself. When the waitress informed him that we had taken care of that too, he turned to our table and asked,

"But why would you do that?"

He wasn't offended but rather perplexed by the idea that total strangers would pay for his meal. I told him that our Thanksgiving plans didn't exactly work out the way we planned so we thought we would try to extend our 'Giving of Thanks' to more than our party of three. He seemed satisfied with that explanation, thanked us warmly, and headed out into the gloomy, rainy, Portland night.

It was only after he pivoted his motorized chair towards the exit that I saw the bumper sticker applied to the back of his chair:

'VOTE REPUBLICAN'

God DAMMIT!