I am reminded of the line uttered by Blanche DuBois in "A Streetcar Named Desire" for today's essay, primarily because within the last twenty-four hours I have seen the best that the people of this country can offer a traveler. I have also seen some of the most mediocre that the country can offer, but more of that in a minute.
the first incicent happened in Gloucester when i had come to town with ronald on a grocery run. while he was occupied with his business I went up to a streetside ATM machine to get some cash out of our checking account. All was going well with the transaction until the end when the machine said "please take your card,' and it made the mechanical noise to eject the plastic into my waiting hand. unfortunately, the device jammed, and the card was barely visible, just peeking out from the slot. Had I my pocket knife, I would have easily pried the thing forward with no worries, but my thick fingers and very closley trimmed fingernails did not allow a grip on the edge of the card and it suddlenly was sucket into the bowels of the machine, and the transaction canceled. You can imagine my distress, and I was so upset that I did not notice the armored car people who had just pulled up and entered the bank. I followed them in and an officious, nasty woman was unlocking the door to the back end of the machine for the guards. I quickly explianed my plight, but the bank woman was completely unhelpful, assuring me that there was no way she could access the guts of the ATM and that I was out of luck. I quickly turned to the guards and begged them to help me, and a big, brawny fellow listened to my story with no small degree of skepticism. When I told him I was a visiting American and would be severly disadvantaged by losing the card, I could see he was yeilding and finally he asked my name. I not only told him that, but I described my card to the gnat's eyelash, and he turned from me to the machine. As quick as I have written these lines he got the card and handed it to me, after which I warmly clasped his hand and said, "Thank you, mate!" What a great guy!
My second experience was much more pleasant. I have been a member of the Masonic fraternity for over two decades and uring our visit here I noted that the town of Gloucester has an active lodge. Furthermore, I noted that they meet on the first Wednesday of the month, which coinicided with the last day we were going to be in town prior to leaving for our rail adventure. As I result, I showed up at the Gloucester lodge on the night of a full moon with more than a little apprehension of how I would be received. I am fully paid up on my dues to my home lodge in Bozeman, Montana, Gallatin #6, but it has beeen some time since I actually visited a lodge. I was unsure of the grips and passwords necessary to gain admission, but I needn't have worried. The brother who met me at the door was friendly and his inquiries were met by me with the correct responses (well, almost correct). What followed was a fantastic meeting with a group of fine fellows who were excited to be hosting a visiting Yank. In addition to presenting me with a beautiful lapel pin theyalso placed at the Master's table for the post meeting meal. It was a wonderful experience and made me glad that I have continued my association with the fraternity.
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