OLD NICK. Pts. 1&2

My wife and I dined at a local eating establishment yesterday, and we were pleased to be seated in the section of tables and booths which was serviced by our favorite waitress, "Diane.”

Having been seated by the hostess, Diane strode up to our booth and warmly greeted us. After she had explained the parameters related to “the catch of the day,” I happened to ask her,

“How long have you worked here?” 

To which Diane responded, 

“45 years.” 

Although I am slightly hard of hearing, I understood her quite well. However, I repeated her words, though I added a rhetorical question mark at the end of my short sentence. 

“45 years?”

Diane smiled, and nodded her head. And since as a counselor I always say, “One question deserves another,” I presented her with an immediate follow up. 

“And did you work anywhere prior to working here?”

Without the slightest pause, she replied.

“Yes, I worked at Christy’s Sundown Restaurant for a short time.”

It was my turn to smile, since I knew the place well.

I immediately thought of old Nick Christy; a heavy-set man with a Greek heritage. His eating establishment was literally “the talk of the town,” and many celebrities who frequented the theme parks of central Florida stopped by for a delicious meal. At the time, the lobby walls were lined with photos of actors and actresses; adorned by their cursive salutations and autographs. Faces and signatures of people such as Johnny Carson, Carol Burnette and Jack Lemmon were bolted securely into the cypress paneling.

Not only had my parents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary in a nicely outfitted reserved room at old Nick’s, but my ‘tenure’ with him and his establishment went back much further than this. For you see, as a UPS driver I often delivered packages to the back door of Christy’s Sundown.

Pt. 2

Although I hesitated to detain our waitress, I continued our dialogue.

“You know when I used to wear that cute little brown matching costume, and drove an equally brown truck, I would pull up at the service door, and ring the bell. And without fail, old Nick would throw open the door, and greet me.”

And with this I imitated the dear old codger’s gruff tone of voice, and tell-tale (almost Mafia-like) accent.

“Uh, hello there son. Good to see ya. You can put that stuff on the counter.”

(and)

“Tell me where ta sign, son.”

(and)

“Thank ya, son. Come back and see me.”

Diane laughed, and exclaimed,

“You definitely have him pegged. You sound just like him. (God rest his soul”).

They say “Imitation is the surest form of flattery,” and it later occurred to me that our momentary reminiscence of old Nick Cristy provided him a brief interlude in which to, in essence, live again; at least in the hearts and minds of those who remember and admired him. 

And I think old Nick would be pleased that someone, somewhere took a moment to reflect on those times and days, now past, and which can never be repeated

…except by those of us who still live and move and have our being, and who have not only remembered, but never forgot.

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 56. Copyright pending

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