The Pizza Joint

by Sara McDonald

It was around 1971, I was 11 or 12 years old and Grandpa & Grandma & I were driving thru Thunder Bay, Ontario after visiting or dropping off at VL. We stopped to get lunch at a pizza joint and while we were eating dad was facing the doorway and watched with interest as a young hippy guy came in and spoke with the restaurant manager, asking for directions. After the kid left, Dad said, “he doesn’t really want directions, he’s actually starving but too proud to ask for handouts”. So we got a box and put the rest of our pizza in it and started driving down the highway looking for this kid. When we pulled over, he came running along and started to get into the car and Dad said, “no, no, we’re not going this way but thought you might like the rest of our pizza”, handing him the box. I’ll never forget the look of incredulity and gratitude on that kid’s face. For a guy who usually was completed absorbed in “Nels World”, he could be incredibly generous.