Eating Posh with my Family

Yesterday, was my nephew’s winter piano recital.  Afterwards, I asked him if we were going to go eat grass (my dad’s way of identifying the Soup Plantation), but he said he wanted Olive Garden. So, as a family we drove from the auditorium to the restaurant of his choice.  As I sat there with my family- I recalled the first time that I ate at the Olive Garden as a teenager.  I had been assigned a mentor in high school and this wonderful lady opened me to a life that I never imagined I could be part of.  Poor people don’t go to restaurants- if they celebrate they normally hit a fast food place because the price is right.  My family was so dirt poor that even McDonald’s was difficult to afford.  Thus, when I found myself having lunch at the Olive Garden as a teenager I couldn’t believe that I had gotten access to a world that I always felt held a “Keep Out” sign.  It was unfamiliar territory so many occasions for possible humiliation that poor people just stay out of cloth napkin restaurants; but, my mentor guided me through the entire process.  As the waitress interrogated me on how I wanted my food my mentor was right beside to guide me in answering the many questions that go with putting an order.  I remember coming home and sharing with my family how I had been to the “fancy” restaurant that was within walking distance from our then home.   

After college I got a job working for a non-profit as a funding coordinator.  Part of my job was going to posh events to meet with current and possible donors.  My first event was at the Ritz.  I drove up to the valet parking and the valets completely ignored my beat-up 1987 GMC Jimmy (a car that had been baptized "a wreck from the war") so I just parked the car myself.  The valet guys including the person in charge of welcoming still thought I was lost as I asked directions to the area where my organization was meeting.  This was my first event where my boss was going to start my training; yet, she was running late.  So, there I was in the middle of wealthy people who were asking me for my political affiliation and if I was a Penny from the successful Pennys’ of Duarte.  I’ve always been terrible at small talk and I felt my hands getting sweaty wishing that I could go talk with the service people in the kitchen instead, when finally my boss saved me.  She started guiding me around the room showing me how to navigate a fundraiser.  I was beginning to feel confident when we were asked to enter the dining area and sit down for our lunch.  As I sat down I remember feeling like Jack in the movie “Titanic” thinking I had never seen so many utensils at once.  I’d figure that I would just imitate what others did as each dish was placed before me.  Then came the plates so artistically presented and as I cut into a round vegetable that I had never seen before the sphere ran out of my plate and onto the floor where I quickly kicked it under the table hoping no one had seen.  After surviving the event, my boss and I made our way outside towards the valet she handed her card to the driver and waited for me to do the same, “Oh, I actually have to go get my car myself.”  She looked confused, “It’s cool my old car fooled the valets,” I added with a smile.

These two experiences made for some great sharing with my family and friends as the first time I ate with cloth napkins and the first time I ate like a passenger on the RMS Titanic!  I come from an insignificant pueblito in Mexico so every time God allows me to see a world that I never thought I would, I marvel with the same awe natural to children.  This ability to awe – to allow ourselves to be small and deeply impressed by the gifts God provides is needed.  It keeps us humble when we delight in a world where doors open that show us that we do belong.