Joe From New Jersey

"Yeah, dese ah really nice. The Holy Muddah on dis one. Would ya lowook at dis? Oh Yeah. Nice, nice."

The middle aged man stood in front of the greeting card section at the Dollar General. His accent screaming out to anyone within earshot, "I AM NOT FROM THE SOUTH!"
A young female clerk stood close beside him, wearing her Santa hat, holding the box of greeting cards for him. She looked at me, then passed the box to him.
He repeated, "Would ya lowook at dis? So nice!" She eased herself away from him, ever so politely, and headed towards the register to ring me up.

I carried two bags of blow-pops and a blue sharpie.

"I'll get dese. Thank ya for helping me find dese." The man said, as he headed to the counter. His tone was mournful, yet grateful.
She rang up his cards and smiled at me, almost to say, "Thank you for coming in to this store when you did."

The man mentioned something about a good place to eat.
"Firehouse subs are good." I said.
"Oh, I triyued dose guys, no gowud, no gowud. But maybe I should. Wad ya get?"
"I had the hook and ladder. Number one. Add some honey-mustard. It's really a good sandwich."
We walked out together and stood on the sidewalk.


Something about this man made me want to keep talking to him. So, I did.
I learned that he recently moved here from New Jersey. That his wife left him 20 years ago, took their three girls, after 15 years of marriage. She'd been having an affair for a while. His father died when he was 11.
"Maddie, my neighbor, he helped me out. He let me help him deliver milk. He'd knock on my door at one a.m., I'd get up and deliver milk. Maddie, he took real good care of me. Took me out to eat.  Said he'd pay for my college." He looked at the ground and shuffled his feet back and forth.  "I didn't go. I met a girl, Barbara, fell in love and got married. She's the one that left me."

"So, how did you survive that?" I asked.
He had a puzzled look on his face.
"I'm talking about when your wife left and took your kids? How'd you handle that?"
"I drank a lot." So simple. The truth. Numb the pain.
"Well, I'm dealing with this too. Not exactly, but similar. My 3 kids are living with their dad now. And I'm having a rough time of it."
"Oh really? Aw that's not nice, not nice. No, not nice."
I wasn't sure what,exactly, he was referring to. But it sure felt comforting.
"No, it's not nice." The whole thing sucks! Is what I wanted to say. But chose to keep that to myself.
"Wadda ya know. Everybody's got something, right?"
"Yea, I think you're right."
"My name's Joe. I'm from New Jersey." He stuck his pudgy hand out to shake mine.
"I'm Kathy, nice to meet you Joe. Welcome to the south. Your story helped me."
"Oh yea, Well that's nice." He didn't seem to question my statement.
"Maybe I"ll try Firehouse Subs again, since you were so nice to tell me that you liked it."
"The bread is what makes it great, I think."
"You have a nice day. It was nice talkin to ya." Joe extended his arm and waved as he headed to his car.
"You too Joe."

We both understand that some things are nice, and some things aren't so nice. Either way, it's Christmas time, and finding a card with a picture of the Holy Mother on it, well, it's just nice.