Somewhere between Nickelsville and Bear Wallow Hollow along Virginia state route 71, the remains of a redbrick home smolders on the hillside overlooking the single lane road. Several volunteer firemen sit, drinking water near the remains of the home. It’s over 90 degrees out. The sun and heat are punishing, exaggerating the heaviness of their efforts.
None of these men will get a paycheck for risking their health and possibly their lives. But that’s okay, that’s not why they do it.
An elderly gentleman stands outside of his vehicle along Route 11 West, the Virginia-Tennessee bi-way made infamous in the 1958 movie Thunder Road about moonshine running — he’s not far from a service station. Two young men pull over and offer their help. Minutes later, he is steering, and they are pushing. He makes it to the station; they walk back toward their white service van with two sandwiches in hand he bought them at the lunch counter inside the service station.
A new waitress at a Chattanooga diner drops her tray full of ribs, macaroni and cheese, and wings just as she is about to deliver it to a table filled with family members from out of town. Half of it lands on the father of the family, staining his white shirt and tangling gooey macaroni and cheese in his hair. She is filled with apologizes and tears. They handle it with grace.
When they leave — after they finally have their dinner — they refuse an offer for complimentary dinner and leave her a generous tip.
None of these are extraordinary moments. In fact, they are really quite ordinary things that happen every day in this country. They are the tiny measures of character, which is best measured in such granular increments....
(Excerpt) Read more at washingtonexaminer.com
None of these men will get a paycheck for risking their health and possibly their lives. But that’s okay, that’s not why they do it.
An elderly gentleman stands outside of his vehicle along Route 11 West, the Virginia-Tennessee bi-way made infamous in the 1958 movie Thunder Road about moonshine running — he’s not far from a service station. Two young men pull over and offer their help. Minutes later, he is steering, and they are pushing. He makes it to the station; they walk back toward their white service van with two sandwiches in hand he bought them at the lunch counter inside the service station.
A new waitress at a Chattanooga diner drops her tray full of ribs, macaroni and cheese, and wings just as she is about to deliver it to a table filled with family members from out of town. Half of it lands on the father of the family, staining his white shirt and tangling gooey macaroni and cheese in his hair. She is filled with apologizes and tears. They handle it with grace.
When they leave — after they finally have their dinner — they refuse an offer for complimentary dinner and leave her a generous tip.
None of these are extraordinary moments. In fact, they are really quite ordinary things that happen every day in this country. They are the tiny measures of character, which is best measured in such granular increments....
(Excerpt) Read more at washingtonexaminer.com
