I took my grandson Connor to dinner at a steak chain in Solon, Ohio. Connor was roughly seven years old. It was a Saturday evening and like many restaurants was packed. This resulted in patrons needing to wait for their tables and they are given the little coaster alarm that buzzes when their table is ready.
Connor and I finished our dinner and headed out. It was a cool summer evening. As we walked past the patrons waiting for a seat I noticed an elderly African-American gentleman standing in a black leather jacket. The jacket was decorated with a slew of patches. One of the patches read Tuskegee.
Connor and I walked past the gentleman and I stopped and asked Connor to come back with me. I asked the gentleman if he was one of the Tuskegee Airman. I recall how he stood tall and said “yes, he was.”
Connor had the opportunity to shake his hand and he met an American hero.
Another short memorable story that makes up life.
