I must extend my heartfelt thanks to three of the finest young men I really don’t know.
On Monday, June 3, I was up in Sedalia paying a few bills. Around 2 p.m., having parted with money already, I decided to splurge on lunch at Steak ‘n Shake.
Three young fellows pulled up in a late model Mustang, blue. They were so nice, holding the door for this old man. The restaurant was crowded; they wound up at one end of the counter, I farther down.
Their manners impressed me. They were just super pleasant, the sorts of young adults you’d be proud to have as sons or grandsons. They ate, and left.
Then I asked the waitress for my check. She informed me the fellow with the curly blond hair, in a tank top, had paid for my meal. It was a random act of kindness that nearly brought me to tears.
I have no idea who those fine young gentlemen were, nor will I likely ever know. Maybe, by some chance, they’ll read this. Perhaps they’re your sons, grandsons; if so please thank them for me. OK?
I’ll never forget their kindness. Thanks men.