It’s ten days until Christmas, and I think I’m almost there. I’m almost in the Christmas spirit. Last night I was at Ingle’s grocery store after work, and I was in line. This guy was trying to buy some bottles that were discreetly packed away in brown bags. He was counting out change, and came up 50 cents short.
He told the cashier girl that he’d be right back; he started to leave when I shouted after him and offered to pay the rest of his bill. It wasn’t any massive act of charity, but the guy looked fairly grateful. He thanked me a lot, called me “sir” and “brother,” and then said something I didn’t quite catch in Cherokee. Then he explained that he was Cherokee. A lot. He introduced himself, Henry something or other. He explained the word he said meant “Thank You” in Cherokee, and that he was a Cherokee warrior. I said “Well, Henry the Cherokee Warrior, you’re welcome. In English.” I wasn’t being sarcastic, I just didn’t know what else to say.
The cashier seemed grateful that he had moved along and left. She smiled at me as she rang up my groceries. I enjoyed her smile, and she thanked me for getting him out of the store.