The Little White Table

On Saturday night we are having dinner at Texas Roadhouse in Kennewick, WA. The house is jam packed with veterans and military as it’s Veteran’s Day and we end up waiting for our table for way over an hour. Usually we would have left and tried to find a place tad less crowded, but Mia really wanted to stay and ride the birthday saddle. No, it wasn’t her birthday, not even her half-birthday, but as the boys have had the honor of climbing into that saddle several times, and she has never gotten a turn we promise she could do it in August for her father’s Birthday. August came, and August went. We didn’t have dinner at Texas Roadhouse as it really wasn’t his Birthday wish, instead we ended up at Lulu’s Craft Bar that time. So, on Saturday, there was no wiggle room, we had to wait.

Almost an hour and a half later we were seated. We walked past an empty table, beautifully set for one person. Unlike all the other tables it had a white tablecloth, black napkin, a candle and a red rose in a vase. The glass was turned upside down. My three children stopped by that table, I wish I would have taken a picture for you, I didn’t because it did not feel quite right. But the three kids stopped, and one of them pointed it out, he said: “Look mamma, look pappa! Look at the table! They have the little white table here!” And they truly did, the America’s White Table. Suddenly I felt a lump in my throat and I was trying to push back the tears as for a moment I was thinking for all those soldiers that could not dine with their family and friends tonight.

On Friday my boys performed and sang - along with other 2^nd graders – the story of “America’s White Table” During their performance, I was equally touched by the beauty of this gesture, but on Saturday night I realized how blessed my children are to be able to witness that same little table in the midst of a busy restaurant. It was no longer just a story, or something you do at school, but reality. Not every father, mother, brother, sister, aunt or uncle was sitting with their family.

We have veterans everywhere amongst us, we just don't see it. My children's classmates mom. Our neighbor. The handyman. My coworkers son, an other ones daughter. A friend's spouse, my Principal Brokers wife... you name it. We just tend to forget. 

Our dinner was awesome. It always is. Yes, the restaurant is a bit tacky with the cowboy theme, but their steaks truly are worth mentioning. No, it’s not by the river with a view over the Marina like Lulu’s or Anthony’s. I’m sure you could have ordered wine, but I saw most with a pint of beer or a margarita, and ordered a pint myself. Besides, I had had enough wine already. There is nothing posh about that restaurant, instead it’s welcoming and warm. Even for us whom were somewhat out of place there.

Unlike the wineries where we spent our afternoon, here our Mercedes looked lonely in the parking lot as it was surrounded by trucks. No, not cheaper. No, not less, definitely not less. I have always had a thing for trucks, and for past ten years we’ve had one ourselves. But the small luxury SUV just looked very different in the crowd, it looked out of place. It’s a rental while my Volvo is getting repaired, and thus it made sense to put the miles in it instead of the Tundra which would have been our usual choice. But it was very obvious in that parking lot in between the restaurant, and a farm and feed store that it didn’t quite belong. At the wineries the car got to hang out with it’s own crew as it was parked next to Range Rovers, Audis and another Mercedes.

A friend made a comment on Facebook, about our oddish choice for dinner. Well, I guess, yes there is nothing similar to Texas Roadhouse in the Eastside, where the world is mainly centered around technology workers. But I encourage everyone to step out of their comfort zone every once in a while. Actually, I think it should be mandatory for everyone to drive over the Cascades, and go take a look at what the world looks like outside of our Eastside bubble. In fact, the views are breath taking as you drive down I-90 after the pass. Suddenly there are no more trees, just desert, and by the river lingering in the valley, all the orchards. We like it, otherwise we most likely wouldn’t be visiting the area several times a year. It’s not just for the wine, you can buy wine at Costco, but for the area itself.

I keep joking that they will all go to Whitman, I mean my kids. But, you don’t just go to Whitman, you are lucky to be chosen to get to go to one of the best schools in the US. I don’t even know if they will ever go to a university, only time will tell. But I for sure wouldn’t mind having a second home somewhere in South East Washington. Maybe they’ll become wine makers. 

Bud is one of the Many Wine Dogs in Eastern Washington.