I think of certain people at odd times. I am sure everyone does.
My father died in March 1997. You think of people on the important dates, and at unexpected times thoughts of them will come up during the course of your life.
One of my father's great loves was peanut butter on toast, sometimes with jam, for breakfast in the morning with his coffee before heading off to work. He would be up before anyone and have his toast and coffee and share it with whatever dog we had at the time. I can remember a lot of times he would get up and have it as a midnight snack. Quite a few times he would have it for dessert. I inherited the same habit. I like to have grape jelly with my peanut butter and toast.
In 1974 my father spent over three months in an intensive care unit, first in a hospital in the town we were living, then he was sent to a hospital in Vancouver, British Columbia where they could do more for him. He was suffering from blood clots and came close to dying from them during that time. I do not recall seeing him during that time.
We knew a few families quite well on our block at that time. Most of them were blue collar types. My father was a heavy duty mechanic, the guy right across the street was a welder. One of the neighbours was a guy with the last name of Lane. My parents were friends with him and his wife. Mr. Lane was a guy that was on a different path. He was smart, had a university degree, and was a professional who owned his own company.
Mr. Lane and his wife were in Vancouver when my father was in the hospital and they stopped in for a visit. Dad was quite ill. Mr. Lane and his wife were dressed up as they were going to dinner in a high end restaurant. Mr. Lane asked if there was anything they could get him. My father said he was dying for a toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich, for some reason he could not get one in the hospital. Mr. Lane and his wife went off to dinner and near the end the waiter asked if there was anything else they would like. Mr. Lane asked for a toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich to go. From what I heard the waiter did a bit of a double take and said he would check with the kitchen. I believe Mr. Lane said it was important and would appreciate it if they could accommodate this request. The restaurant came through and they charged him six dollars, expensive for 1974. He delivered it to the hospital and my father was damn happy to get it. Dad talked about getting peanut butter and jelly delivered to him for years.
Dad got better, we moved from that town not long after as dad accepted a transfer, and I only saw the Lane family one or two times after that.
Not sure why I was thinking about this event recently. Maybe I was thinking that a small gesture can have a big impact on someone else. Or that I was thinking that I hope there is peanut butter and grape jelly in the afterlife.