On Old Friends and Coincidences

One lovely day not many weeks past, I enjoyed a languid and fun lunch with Jody at our favoured French restaurant on Madison. Jody left after lunch to get back to work, but I lingered. I had just bought my digital camera, and was fondly going through the photos I'd taken, deleting those that didn't meet the cut.

Two charming and handsome older gentlemen were seated at the window table diagonal to mine. I longed to take their photos, but didn't want to intrude. After a few minutes, I overheard one ask the waitress for access to a phone since his beeper had ...beeped. With no phone available outside of the kitchen, he looked mildly concerned, and I offered him the use of my cell phone. He was sweet and friendly, and I helped him dial the number.

This happened a few times, and his friend invited me to join them. I asked him if I might take their photos, and they agreed. And we began to talk.

It turns out that these two men met one another in Auschwitz, where they were prisoners. One was from a small town in Poland, the other from France. The Frenchman's mom had been sent to the gas chamber on arrival; he had survived. I shared that I had gone to Auschwitz twice. He had never returned, but his Polish friend had. He had no desire to go. I could understand that. I told them about my mom's family (most of whom were killed in the Holocaust). They were wonderful and charming, and even took well to my somewhat dangerous sense of humour.

I asked for their addresses to send them their photos, although I worried about them coming out as I had yet to master high-resolution prints, and on top of that I had shot the photos against the light.

Weeks later, I'd figured out resolution, but had yet to send the photos. However, I had gone so far as to write a card and stick both the card and the photos into an envelope. Yesterday, I took the next step toward mailing them out: I put them in my purse.

***

Yesterday evening, I left work beat and bothered. Jody and I made plans to go to the same French restaurant; she would probably get there after me. I pounded the pavement a bit, and then started making some productive calls to family and friends. I stood under some tarp, protected from the drizzle on the evening street.

And then, suddenly, walking toward me, who should I see but one of the two elderly gentlemen! I gaped for a moment and then smiled happily. I felt he'd walked out of my photographs. I greeted him and began to reintroduce myself. He'd recognized me though, and I suddenly gladly remembered the photos in my purse. I handed them to him. He was so sweet and generous.

He looked at them and remarked that they were the most beautiful photos of him and his friend that he could recall. I noted that his memory was clearly beginning to fail. He insisted it had not and asked how he could repay me. Honestly. I said sharing his story had been payment enough and more, and I hoped he liked the photos. He took my written and e-mail address, and we parted with great words.

I walked into the French place and got a table, and was shortly joined by Jody. As we got into our salads, who should walk in but the same Polish gentleman! He didn't notice us, and I didn't want to disturb his meal. He was with another friend, or perhaps his wife. He called over the owner of the restaurant, an already typically exuberant Frenchman.

He took out my envelope with the photos and showed them to him. Among the photos of the two old friends, I'd included three of the restaurant, hoping to trigger their memory as to where we'd met, so many weeks having elapsed. The owner ooh'ed and ah'ed over them, I thought to be friendly. He was gifted with the photos, and at the end of dinner as I waited for Jody wrap up with a nervous client on the phone I approached the bar. The owner was looking at the photos, singing something to himself. I asked him if he liked the photos, and he proudly showed them off. "Oh," I said, "I've seen them before. I took them." He was adorable.

He asked me to have a bottle of his best champagne on the house. Sadly, I could not drink. He offered me a glass, but I could not accept that offer either.

Well, I had left the office upset and exhausted, but those coincidences and the sweet responses to the photos sure brightened my spirits and lightened my evening! :)

But I do now still owe the second gentleman his photos, and hope to have them in the mail on Friday...

Update on Wednesday Morning: A long workday under my belt, I met with Jody again last evening for dinner at the French place. I didn't remind the owner about the champagne, or mention the pictures, but, voila, at the end of the meal what should appear at our table but two complimentary glasses of champagne. :)

The Charming Polish Gentleman

The Charming French Gentleman


The Two Old Friends


The French Place


The French Place