The Curse of Costco and the Spirit of Texas

Yesterday I ran to Costco to stock up on some much-needed things. We were completely out of milk (it's $1 cheaper there than at the regular grocery stores!), eggs, bread, Diet Dr. Pepper - you know, the necessities. I had Little Man and Big J with me, as Little J was banned to take a nap in his room since he was on one big time. (Luckily, I have a husband who works from home). After an hour in the store, we brave the frigid cold that I believe is never going to go away, load up kids and groceries, and...the van won't start.

I have decided it is Costco's fault that the battery went out, because just a few weeks ago when I was there I got a flat tire. A bus driver actually honked at me to let me know about my low tire. I ended up needing both the front ones replaced. Our battery was starting to show signs of weakness probably 3 months ago, but it was always after a car door had been open for a while, and it was always in the comfort of my own garage. I've never been stranded by it before.

So I pull the jumper cables out of our trusty automobile emergency kit and start trying to track down someone to help jump us. I was parked towards the end of the parking lot, so not a ton of people were readily available. I start walking toward a man and his wife who are loading their car. They load it, get in and drive away. I approach a woman with her teenage daughter and ask if she could give me a jump. She doesn't even look me in the eye as she tells me she's late getting her daughter to basketball practice and so I should go into the tire center inside and see if someone in there could help me. Ok...

Then, I see an older man wearing a navy suit and a pinstripe shirt, complete with a red silk handkerchief in his pocket. I realize as his automatic locks beep that he is parked right next to me. I ask him for a jump. He unloads his stuff and pulls his car around to align our batteries. I say, "Thanks so much for doing this. I know it's freezing out here!"

To which he replies, "Well, when you're from Texas, that's what you do..."

Surprised, I told him I was also originally from Texas, which sparked off a very lively and pleasant conversation. This is what I found out about the man with the red handerchief:

His name is Joe Poor. (I don't know if that is how you spell it, but that is what it sounded like).

He had lived in Longview, TX, since 1950 where he had a 5 bedroom house, a lake house, and two boats completely paid off before retirement.

He moved here to be close to his daughter and 3 grandchildren.

She went to SMU and met her husband who was from here.

He was never home for his kids growing up because he was a workaholic and so he decided it would be the right thing to do to enjoy his grandkids while they were young.

This past Christmas Eve they set everything up for Santa, something he had always missed doing with his own children, and then he and his daughter and son-in-law sat around the fireplace drinking cocktails and talking until 2 a.m.

By this time the car was jumped and we were numb from the cold, so I shook his hand and told him thank you again. He even opened the door for me.

I'm glad to report we now have a new van battery. And I am proud to know that the Spirit of Texas lives on, even in transplants. Thank you, Mr. Poor!