By Elizabeth Young
Canada is not a country for the cold of heart or the cold of feet.
~Pierre Elliott Trudeau
When I was working, the first stop I made each morning was the same place most Canadians make their first stop each morning -- Tim Hortons for their first cup of coffee. Without Tim Hortons, Canada would grind to a screeching halt, which is why I maintain that their employees are definitely not paid enough. A few years ago, as I went through the drive-through, radio on but only half awake, the lady at the window said to me: "You must like country music also. I love country music!" Delighted to discover another country music fan, our morning conversations, albeit very short, usually revolved around the same theme. "I just love that song!" the server would say. "One of my favourites..." I'd respond.
Canada is not a country for the cold of heart or the cold of feet.
~Pierre Elliott Trudeau
When I was working, the first stop I made each morning was the same place most Canadians make their first stop each morning -- Tim Hortons for their first cup of coffee. Without Tim Hortons, Canada would grind to a screeching halt, which is why I maintain that their employees are definitely not paid enough. A few years ago, as I went through the drive-through, radio on but only half awake, the lady at the window said to me: "You must like country music also. I love country music!" Delighted to discover another country music fan, our morning conversations, albeit very short, usually revolved around the same theme. "I just love that song!" the server would say. "One of my favourites..." I'd respond.
One day I drove up to the window and told my friend I'd heard on the radio that Randy Travis was coming to Ontario. "Randy Travis!" she exclaimed. "I would absolutely love to go see him!"
"Me too," I responded. "Bet the tickets will be sold out as soon as they're on sale."
"Yeah, you're right," she agreed. "But imagine seeing him live!"
"I sure wish I could," I said, pausing for a second before remembering I was late as usual and needed to get moving.
A few days later a plan began to hatch in my mind. Over the months of going through the drive-through I discovered that my country music friend was a single parent living in a small basement apartment with her young daughter. She had no vehicle and had to use the bus for transportation. Anyone who has taken the bus consistently through a Canadian winter will understand why I am mentioning this. The woman's life was difficult but she worked hard and didn't complain, trying to make the best of things.
My plan was to purchase two tickets to see Randy Travis and then ask her if she would like to attend the concert with me -- that way transportation wouldn't be a problem. She had also mentioned that her ex-husband took their daughter occasionally on the weekend, and fortunately I was able to purchase two tickets for a Saturday evening show.
Driving up to the window the next morning I could barely contain my excitement. "You look happy today," she commented.
"Remember the Randy Travis concert?" I asked. "Well, I have two tickets. So why don't you come with me -- your ticket's already paid for." At that point I had to drive on because the traffic was piling up behind me. "See you tomorrow!" I said, but the look on that young woman's face as I drove away was absolutely priceless.
Every morning afterwards we spoke about the concert with great excitement. The details were worked out one by one, coffee by coffee. Like most things, waiting to see Randy Travis was almost as enjoyable as seeing him. We had so much fun anticipating the songs he'd sing, the things he'd say (he's quite the comedian) and how long he'd sing. Our friends and the people we worked with must have been tired of hearing us rant about our concert.
The night of the concert I arranged to pick up my friend. I hardly recognised her out of her Tim Hortons uniform, with hairnet off and make-up on. Because we arrived before the "appointed time" I had the opportunity to take her out to eat. It was nice to sit and relax, as opposed to our one-minute drive-by conversations. When the great moment came and it was time to find our seats, we were thrilled they turned out to be excellent, not far from the stage. In addition to this there were giant screens on either side of the stage for people to see Randy perform up close.
It seemed like a long time until the curtains drew back, and a few moments later, there he was, black cowboy hat and all. As he sang his first number we were absolutely mesmerized. This voice that we had listened to so often was singing to us live from the stage. What a difference! I don't believe our eyes left that stage for the next two hours as we listened to song after song from that deep, melodious, unforgettable voice. There was much laughter also as Randy told stories of some of his "kinfolk." One cousin was so ugly that people used to make fun of him all the time. "My cousin can't help that he was born ugly," he said one time to his grandmother. "No he can't," she said. "But that doesn't mean he has to go out in public so much!"
We laughed, we cried, we heard songs that had lightened our days and been with us through the darkest of nights. All too soon it seemed, the concert was over. He wasn't going to get away without an encore of course, but this was quickly over also. With glorious memories we left the theatre and found our way back to the car, reliving all the moments of the concert.
The Bible says that if you give something to someone who can repay you, it doesn't mean anything, but if you give to someone who cannot repay you, you will be blessed. I was blessed beyond measure to give to someone who could not repay me. I later found out that the apartment my friend and her daughter lived in had serious mould issues, forcing them to move. I sometimes wonder what became of them and am thankful our paths were destined to intersect -- albeit at a Tim Hortons drive-through.
"Me too," I responded. "Bet the tickets will be sold out as soon as they're on sale."
"Yeah, you're right," she agreed. "But imagine seeing him live!"
"I sure wish I could," I said, pausing for a second before remembering I was late as usual and needed to get moving.
A few days later a plan began to hatch in my mind. Over the months of going through the drive-through I discovered that my country music friend was a single parent living in a small basement apartment with her young daughter. She had no vehicle and had to use the bus for transportation. Anyone who has taken the bus consistently through a Canadian winter will understand why I am mentioning this. The woman's life was difficult but she worked hard and didn't complain, trying to make the best of things.
My plan was to purchase two tickets to see Randy Travis and then ask her if she would like to attend the concert with me -- that way transportation wouldn't be a problem. She had also mentioned that her ex-husband took their daughter occasionally on the weekend, and fortunately I was able to purchase two tickets for a Saturday evening show.
Driving up to the window the next morning I could barely contain my excitement. "You look happy today," she commented.
"Remember the Randy Travis concert?" I asked. "Well, I have two tickets. So why don't you come with me -- your ticket's already paid for." At that point I had to drive on because the traffic was piling up behind me. "See you tomorrow!" I said, but the look on that young woman's face as I drove away was absolutely priceless.
Every morning afterwards we spoke about the concert with great excitement. The details were worked out one by one, coffee by coffee. Like most things, waiting to see Randy Travis was almost as enjoyable as seeing him. We had so much fun anticipating the songs he'd sing, the things he'd say (he's quite the comedian) and how long he'd sing. Our friends and the people we worked with must have been tired of hearing us rant about our concert.
The night of the concert I arranged to pick up my friend. I hardly recognised her out of her Tim Hortons uniform, with hairnet off and make-up on. Because we arrived before the "appointed time" I had the opportunity to take her out to eat. It was nice to sit and relax, as opposed to our one-minute drive-by conversations. When the great moment came and it was time to find our seats, we were thrilled they turned out to be excellent, not far from the stage. In addition to this there were giant screens on either side of the stage for people to see Randy perform up close.
It seemed like a long time until the curtains drew back, and a few moments later, there he was, black cowboy hat and all. As he sang his first number we were absolutely mesmerized. This voice that we had listened to so often was singing to us live from the stage. What a difference! I don't believe our eyes left that stage for the next two hours as we listened to song after song from that deep, melodious, unforgettable voice. There was much laughter also as Randy told stories of some of his "kinfolk." One cousin was so ugly that people used to make fun of him all the time. "My cousin can't help that he was born ugly," he said one time to his grandmother. "No he can't," she said. "But that doesn't mean he has to go out in public so much!"
We laughed, we cried, we heard songs that had lightened our days and been with us through the darkest of nights. All too soon it seemed, the concert was over. He wasn't going to get away without an encore of course, but this was quickly over also. With glorious memories we left the theatre and found our way back to the car, reliving all the moments of the concert.
The Bible says that if you give something to someone who can repay you, it doesn't mean anything, but if you give to someone who cannot repay you, you will be blessed. I was blessed beyond measure to give to someone who could not repay me. I later found out that the apartment my friend and her daughter lived in had serious mould issues, forcing them to move. I sometimes wonder what became of them and am thankful our paths were destined to intersect -- albeit at a Tim Hortons drive-through.
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