HeroicStories #728: 24 October 2007 www.HeroicStories.com
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Yukon Dinner for Five Story Editor:
by Tilas T Brian Forte
Yukon Territory, Canada
On Christmas night 2003 in Watson Lake, Yukon Territory, Canada, it was
snowing and around -20C (-4F). My brother had to work the graveyard
shift at the local hotel. So, my Mom made up a big plate of dinner to
take to him.
While we were delivering the works (including pie), a man at the front
counter was renting a room. He saw the plate of food, smiled and said
"Oh wow, homemade Christmas dinner."
"Haven't you had dinner yet?" asked Mom. He told her no. "Well wait
here, we'll go get you a plate."
The man looked at my mother, shocked, and said "Oh no, no. I have my
daughter and my three grandchildren with me, please don't worry about
it." He was going to get his family something from the bar. My brother
told him all they had were those lousy pre-packaged roast beef
sandwiches. And the hotel's restaurant was closed.
Actually, in a tiny 800-person town 6° south of the Arctic Circle, on a
cold Christmas night, pretty much everything was closed.
Mom told him that she would go make him a plate. He kept insisting she
shouldn't but my mother wouldn't hear of it. She and I came home and she
dished out a huge platter from all the extra dinner we had.
Back at the hotel we got the man's room number from my brother. Mom
knocked on the door. A young woman answered, and mom walked in with the
platter, plates, forks, and a whole pumpkin pie.
The woman's eyes went wide as she kept repeating "Oh my gosh, thank
you!"
Her father (whom we had met earlier) returned a moment later, shocked
that we actually came back. His three grandchildren, who looked to be
between 2 and 6, looked at the platter, then at us. It turned out the
kids hadn't had anything other than chocolate bars and snacks since they
started driving early that morning.
They were headed for Alaska and, before starting out that day, they'd
called ahead to a small hotel to be sure it would be open. When they
arrived, however, they were told there was no room at the inn. That
booked-out inn was about 3 hours south of Watson Lake in good weather,
twice that in the cold winter.
Between towns this far north, there's nothing on the roads but
occasional seasonal gas stations (which are, of course, closed for the
winter). Nonetheless, they continued down the road until they reached
Watson Lake, where they could at least get a room for the night.
My Mom didn't know these people. When she met the man at reception she
could have ignored his story and walked away. Instead she helped them,
simply because she could. She shared our dinner with complete strangers
so they (and we) could have a Merry Christmas. I have never been so
proud of my mother in my life.
unsaddledrainbo
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