by Jeff Moberg
***Official Notice***
On this date of September 13, 2011, this establishment–known as Dan and Dot’s Diner–is officially closed due to a lack of adhering to new county landscaping guidelines.
I waved Mom over so she could read it also. “What does that mean?” I asked. “What is “a lack of adhering to landscaping guidelines”? Why would they close them for that?”
She read the notice and then took a look around. “I guess it is a little barren… and dreary looking... and messy…”
Mom was right. The only ‘landscaping’ was a gravel parking lot, a few crooked railroad ties, some washed out river rock, a couple of dead bushes–and lots and lots of weeds.
“I guess they’re just too old to keep up on the outside appearance,” I suggested. “I mean, they must be in their eighties or nineties.”
Mom nodded and I thought of poor Dan in his wheelchair. “Maybe we could help them clean things up--pull the weeds, pick up the trash.”
There was a lot of trash scattered throughout the parking lot. Old pop cans, broken beer bottles, fast food wrappers, empty cups, lids, and straws. It looked like this was where the local high school kids hung out at night.
Suddenly, I had a great idea. “Can we drive over to Luke’s?” I asked. I gave her the kid look that wouldn’t take no for an answer.
When we got to the tree farm, we could see that The Lukester and his mom were already a step ahead of us. Bob and Bob Jr. (I suddenly wondered if they ever got a day off) had loaded The Lukester’s last 20 trees onto the flatbed trailer and they were tossing bags of decorative red and brown bark into the bed of the old, green Ford pickup.
The Lukester’s mom was talking to Eugene and he was smiling and nodding and patting her on the shoulder. She came over and gave me a hug and shook my mom’s hand. “You must be Maggy,” she said with a big smile. “I’ve heard so many good things about you from Norma.”
Mom shot me a quick glance. “Really? Good things--from my Norma?” She seemed genuinely surprised. “And you must be Abby. I’ve heard wonderful things about you–and also Luke. You have quite a kid there.”
The Lukester’s mom smiled as he came over with a handful of large, black trash bags.
“You must be Luke,” my mom said as she reached out to shake his hand. His shaking hand was in a purple and silver cast (our school colors).
The Lukester smiled and said, “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You guys must have been over at the Diner,” The Lukester’s mom said. “We just found out this morning. Luke is donating his other trees and Eugene has been kind enough to pay for Bob and Bob Jr. to help out.”
As the two moms loaded some plants and bushes and flowers into the back of the Scrambler, The Lukester ran back to the trailer to get a Sharpie–so I could be the first to sign his cast.
Two minutes later, on the very front, where everyone could see it, I wrote:
Way to go Rocky! YFFL, Norma L
The Lukester looked closely at his newly signed, purple forearm with the silver message. Then he looked up at me. “Rocky?”
I smiled. “You know… Rocky… Rocky Balboa.” He wasn’t getting it. I kept trying. “Rocky… the fighter… from the boxing movies… Sylvester Stallone… ” I even sang the song. “Da da da da… da da da da da da…” Then he got it.
“Oh yeah! Rocky!” He seemed to like the comparison. “So what does YFFL mean?”
Suddenly, I was embarrassed. It was in silver sharpie--right on his arm--for the world to see. I couldn’t take it back now. “Your Friend Forever.” I was hoping he wouldn’t ask about the L.
He asked about the L. “What does the L stand for?”
I gave it a shot. “It’s my last name. Norma L.”
He didn’t buy it. “Not the L after your name. I know what that means. The L before your name. After Your Friend Forever. What does that L mean?”
He knew what it meant. It was the BIG L word. The L dash dash dash word. I wasn’t going to say it. “You’re a smart guy,” I said finally. “You figure it out!”
22
Open!
The rest of that day, I worked harder than I ever had in my life. Word of what had happened and we were doing traveled quickly, and soon about half of the town of Mosely was in Dan and Dot’s parking lot–cleaning, planting, raking, shoveling, and hauling. People brought in more bushes and more flowers and more trees. Every weed was pulled, every piece of trash was picked up–and within one day–Dan and Dot’s Diner was transformed into the most beautiful spot in all of Mosely County (maybe even the entire world).
Dot pitched in by bringing everyone glasses of ice-cold lemonade and homemade cookies–and Dan rolled around in his wheelchair, holding a large trash bag open for the little kids to fill up. I looked around and was amazed by what I saw. I saw The Lukester, with his broken hand in a cast, doing the best he could to help Bob and Bob Jr. plant what remained of his legacy. I saw our two moms, working together on their day off. And I saw neighbors, friends, and even complete strangers giving their precious time, energy, hard work, sweat, and resources–all just to help Dan and Dot.
Someone called the Mayor and within five minutes, he drove into the parking lot in his shiny, black, brand-new Cadillac. He got out slowly, looked around (even more slowly), and then walked over to the front door of the diner and took down the closed notice. He then walked over to Dan and Dot, smiled his big politician smile, crumpled up the vile piece of paper--and tossed it into the trash bag that Dan was holding.
Everyone cheered and I saw Dot lean over and give Dan her biggest grandma hug ever. They both had tears in their eyes. I knew that I had seen a truly amazing thing happen today–and I was proud that I had been a part of it.
That evening, Dan and Dot threw a celebration barbecue and party for everyone who had helped out. There was a long, long table with chicken and ribs, bowls of potato and macaroni salad, bags of chips, plates of cookies, and every kind of pie you could imagine. I had never seen such a happy group of people. Everyone shared the same smile and content look of having helped someone in need. It was a good feeling.
Later that night, as it started to get dark, the local (and previously famous) Mosely band, The Darlings, showed up and played their 1961 number one country hit, “I Got a Bucket of Love for You”. Normally, I didn’t really like country music, but I thought this song was sweet and it seemed to fit the situation well.
The Lukester (and a few of the older people) knew the words, and they sang along loudly:
