As I entered the restaurant, I looked for the hostess so I could inquire as to where the Shrine Club of Daytona Beach was meeting. I was the guest dinner speaker and arrived early so I could get set up and chat with the members.
When I asked a waitress for the location, she pointed at the hostess, who was helping an elderly man walk to the private dining room. She held his arm while he steadied himself with his cane in his other hand. I wasn't in a hurry so I walked behind them while he shuffled along.
When I entered the dining room, I quickly headed to the podium and table that was provided for my books. When everything was ready, I introduced myself to an attractive man who was sitting at the head table. He invited me to sit at the end of the table to his immediate left. He said he was Program Director and was delighted to have me as the guest speaker. He told me his name but the noise in the room from club members conversing was reverberating off the walls, so I could only catch his first name - John.
I excused myself to circulate among the members before dinner started. I have a loud voice but had to increase my volume to screaming level so the members could hear me. Since chatting became impossible, I returned to the head table.
As I sat down, John picked up my left hand and commented there was no wedding ring. When we discovered we both lost our spouses, John’s eyes lit up with anticipation. He shared some of his stories from when he was a race car driver and drove on the streets of Daytona Beach. He raced before the Daytona Speedway was built. He proudly told me that he was 85. While he was sharing his stories, he continued to hold my hand, while I cupped my right ear with my other hand and leaned in closer to hear him. He was flirting with me and I didn't mind in the least because he was fascinating and attentive. When the food arrived, John winked at me and let go of my hand so I could eat.
After dinner, there was a brief meeting. One of the topics was the concern that the club would fold if they didn't get some younger members. The club was shrinking due to the demise of so many elderly members. I knew after a long day and a full stomach that I would be challenged to keep this senior crowd awake despite the fact that I sprinkled my speech with humor.
As I talked, John’s face was animated. He nodded when he agreed with what I was saying, while others were nodding because they were asleep! When I speak, I always look around the room while briefly making eye contact with members of the audience. But I was pulled back to John because of his enthusiastic response. When he removed his traditional red fez, I found myself looking down on thick, wavy, gunmetal gray hair. I gazed at this handsome man and thought, "No way is he 85. He doesn't look it and he has so much vitality!"
After the talk I became involved in selling and signing books. I noticed that John was politely waiting until I finished so I could sign his copy last. I stood and reached out to shake his hand. John was a tall man so I was looking up at him. In one smooth move, he used the handshake to pull me forward so he could plant a kiss on my mouth. He stepped back triumphant, with a pleased grin on his face, while his eyes danced with merriment. You could practically hear him think, "This guy still has what it takes." If he could, he would have kicked up his heels.
I thanked John for making the evening special. Of course I too was grinning from ear to ear over his daring action. He walked tall while he took a few steps and reached for a cane lying on the next table. He turned and began to shuffle through the restaurant. At that moment I realized John was the "old" man I had followed into the private dining room. This time, although he was shuffling, his soul was dancing and he stood taller.
How my perception had changed. I had felt sorry for the old man who appreciated the helping hand of the hostess. I thought what a shame it was that this man, who had once been full of energy, had been reduced to needing help just to walk. Now as I looked at his retreating back, I felt respect, admiration and yes, a sigh in my heart. I was reminded to never judge a person by his cover. You never know what lies within. Was he shuffling or was he dancing?
Carol Welsh, M.S,. is the author of "Stop When You See Red." She has over 25 years of experience as a speaker and is a frequent guest on talk shows. Her Web site is stopred.com. She can be contacted at
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