Settling into my seat aboard the Showboat Branson Belle on Table Rock Lake near Branson for the sold-out afternoon meal and performance, I noticed the older man beside me was carrying a faded U.S. Coast Guard cap.
The remainder of the next two hours was spent watching an entertaining new stage show and reliving our mutual service in the same branch of the military during the 1960s. What were the odds two veterans of such a relatively limited arm of the military would wind up seated alongside each other back on the water in a theater filled with hundreds of showboaters?
Yet here sat Dick Coles and Edna, his effervescent wife of 56 years, from Ozark, Mo.
As we talked about different duty assignments and stations from our service years, I learned that their son, Jeff Coles, today heads the recycling efforts for the City of Fayetteville. Jeff is one of their four children, along with grandchildren and even a great-grandchild. "He has a big job with big responsibilities," said Dick, "but there's no doubt he will handle it just fine."
While dining on salad, beef, chicken, rolls, vegetables (and an equally tasty dessert,) it became clear that our introduction and exchange of ol' war stories was developing into a fledgling friendship. He told of his adventures spanning both coasts as he participated on search-and-rescue teams, while I related my active duty during the late 1960s assigned to the Coast Guard's air rescue and harbor patrol base in San Diego.
This brief encounter (as readers know, I don't believe in coincidence) promised to bear future fruit as we exchanged phone numbers when the cruise and show ended with a rousing musical salute to those who've served in the armed forces.
What an enjoyable and productive way to spend a late afternoon. And the food and entertaining performance left us feeling even better about our choice to board the showboat that day.
Just goes to show how whenever we step out into the world and begin chatting with others, positive experiences often unfold. Or, in the words of the Coast Guard motto Semper Paratus, always be ready for the unexpected. Wish I had a cap like Dick's to constantly remind me.
Cafeteria cacophony
I'm seated in a typical public school cafeteria at lunchtime across from daughter Anna and alongside my 7-year-old grandson, Trenton. More than a hundred other second-graders fill five long tables adjacent to ours.
Watching them interact and listening to the constant hum of conversations, along with laughter and squeals, reminded me of watching chicks at Easter, all peeping endlessly while scurrying to and fro in a large tub beneath the protective warmth of a light.
What struck most deeply was the realization that, despite racial and cultural differences that ranged from Anglo to Asian and African American, they didn't even notice.
One black girl with a pretty pink ribbon in her hair sat with one white girlfriend on her right side and two others to her left. All were laughing, chatting and sharing a grand animated time over their lunches. Across the room, a black child had one arm around his white buddy as they, too, joked and carried on. On this day, Trenton had invited a friend of a different race to join us. But I also knew skin color means nothing to him when it comes to friends.
"Why did you ask today?" I asked him. He grinned at me. "Because I never have before, Grandpa, and he's one of my friends and I wanted him to not feel left out," was the reply.
Nowhere in the melee did I detect the slightest indication of resentments, or anything other than children thoroughly enjoying their lunch period together.
Anna recognized the same thing. We smiled at each other as if we'd shared that thought. I asked at what stage of life did she believe all this youthful acceptance of each other as friends (and a joy of friendship) begins to change.
"It begins, Dad, when the parents and others start to poison their children's minds by conditioning them to dislike or resent others for their circumstances of birth."
I agreed this transition to resenting and even hating for no genuine rationale begins in the home and among peers as the hormones kick in during puberty.
Yet on this pleasant day, all I could see and hear was about 130 happy boys and girls enjoying each other and their lunch break.
I, me, my, mine
The longer I'm in this world the more amazed I am that so many others of my age have never understood a fundamental life lesson when it comes to meaningful co-existence.
They haven't learned to simply close their mouths more often and listen what what others have to share. They somehow fail to realize for whatever disconnect exists, be it self-absorption or insecurity, that to anyone else they really aren't the most significant or important person in life.
Someone really smart also once commented that we never learn anything while we're talking.
There's nothing particularly wrong with their constant drone of "I, me, my, mine." It does mean so much truly can be gleaned about another's priorities and personality in a relatively brief conversation.
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Mike Masterson's column appears regularly in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Email him at [email protected].
Editorial on 09/12/2015