You must know my father, T F Stern

I was on the phone talking with my son on his birthday a little while ago.  The conversation turned to eating out on Valentine’s Day.  Neither of us had wanted to take our wives to an overly crowded restaurant and decided to stay home or go for fast food. I joked that I’d taken Lucy to Arby’s, a really nice place, one that had free refills on soda.

I should explain the joke.  Lucy and I’d watched a television interview where a young woman from the inner city was asked about the kind of man she considered attractive when it came to dating. She thought one of the ways to determine a quality date was being taken to a really good restaurant, one where they didn’t charge for refills.  Let that sink in for a moment.

William acknowledged that Arby’s made a pretty good Ruben Sandwich; but next time we were in town we should go to Victor’s Sandwich Shop for their Ruben’s.  I’d have to agree, Victor’s Ruben’s was better.  But that’s not what I wanted to write about today.

Several years ago…why is it most of my stories start off with, several years ago?  Anyway, back when we were still living in Olde Oaks we had a family living close by and we would visit with them once a month as part of what used to be called Home Teaching, an older version of Ministering. 

Terrell Hunt was an environmental lawyer as was his wife Karen.  They met and hit it off despite social norms.  It was a mixed marriage; Terrell was White and Karen was Black.  Their politics tended to lean left, which made it interesting since Lucy and I were more conservative politically.  It didn’t matter all that much since all of us had a firm testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and we treated each other as brothers and sisters.  Any time we’d be shopping and see her mother, I’d openly greet her, “Hey, Mom!”  There was a special acceptance that permitted such a lighthearted meeting in public.

After a couple of years of enjoying a mutual friendship, Karen had become more comfortable when we’d come by to visit.  On one such visit Karen explained that she’d been to Victor’s Sandwich Shop, and you were wondering how Victor’s would figure into this; anyway, that afternoon she went to pick up lunch. There was an informal retirement party going on for a police officer with all his friends at Victor’s Sandwich Shop.

Karen waded into their merriment and started off with, “You must know my father, T F Stern. He’s a retired cop too.”  Mind you, Karen is an attractive middle age Black woman and I’m a little past middle age White guy.  Some, if not all the police officers who were enjoying the moment probably knew me as those words rumble around in their heads.

One of them responded with something like, “It must be a different Stern from the one we know”.  The smile on his face must have been too much fun for Karen.

“T F Stern retired a few years ago, you know, he’s also a locksmith, worked night shift for HPD”.  She didn’t wait even half a moment as she added, “He met mom when he busted her for prostitution and, well, they hit it off and here I am.” 

I’d have paid good money to have been a fly on the wall that day.  Karen’s face was all aglow as she related the encounter that evening.  I’m sure there are police officers wondering to this day how much of that yarn was true.

The glue that holds friends together is, in part, a warped sense of humor and the ability to bond despite social norms or expectations.

My friend Terrell suffered a major stroke a few years later and died.  This was about the time we moved to our property in Buffalo, Texas.  We’ve since lost track of Karen but wanted her to know, she always has a place in her old dad’s heart.