Ribeye Steak, a Polish Waiter and Being an American

For the first time in a long while, my wife and I have the chance to get away alone for a few days.  We chose to go back to Williamsburg, Virginia.  It’s been great so far.  I love Virginia.  The history here is incredible.  Both sides of my family have roots in Virginia dating back to the 1620’s in Jamestown.  During our tour of the Williamsburg capitol building, it was all I could do to keep from getting the tour guide’s attention and blurting out that my great-great-great-great…grandfather sat right here (well the capitol was actually in Jamestown then, but why quibble over historical details) in the 1623 House of Burgesses.  I was sure he would be automatically impressed and ask me to expound on my great knowledge of what it means to be an American.  Being the humble man that I am, however, I didn’t want to make others feel as if they were lesser Americans, so I held back. 

Tonight, however, I saw an example that shows me many of our citizens have no idea what it really means to be an American at all.  Since my pedometer indicated that we had put about 11 miles behind us on foot today, I thought tonight would be a great night for a bit heavier dinner.  I found a promising steak house, the Fireside Chophouse, and we went in.  It was perfect.  Our waiter explained the menu to us and introduced us to the new waitress he was training.  After they walked away, my wife and I talked about their countries of origin.  They were clearly Eastern European, but I did not think they came from the same country.  After a little conversation, we learned that the new waitress had just arrived from Romania and our waiter was from Poland originally.

I told the waiter, Thomas, that I was always interested in the stories of people who emigrate to America.  I asked what brought him here.  In a word, he said, it was opportunity.  Thomas explained that when he grew up in Poland, all he ever heard about the USA was that it was a terrible place.  He said the communist propaganda machine controlled the information and that all he knew was how great they had it in Poland.  Thomas explained that you had to get special stamps to buy meat, and that his mother would stand in line for hours during one of the infrequent distributions of small rations.   He said they usually couldn’t get any meat at all.  Thomas was a teenager before he ever saw a TV or radio, and they were nearly impossible to get even if you had the money.  He explained that toilet paper was unobtainable.  Despite all this, Poland was the best place on earth – except for maybe Russia – Thomas believed.

For reasons he didn’t explain, Thomas’ sister came to America, and he heard a different story.  He became desperate to come to America.  Thomas came to Williamsburg nine years ago at age 29 without a penny to his name.  All he wanted was a chance to work.  He got a minimum wage job cooking at Golden Corral.  Let me restate this for effect:  this man left his family, his country and everything he had ever known for a chance to work in a Golden Corral.  Though he didn’t know a word of English, Thomas showed up every day, and he just worked.  Through gestures, the manager would show him what he needed Thomas to cook.  Thomas figured it out.  He kept getting more responsibility.

Thomas lived with roommates to keep expenses down and saved every dime he could.  He learned the language by osmosis and by listening to TV.  He worked other jobs as well in order to get ahead.  Once he learned English, he managed to get a job as a waiter at the Fireside Chophouse where I met him tonight.  He is currently learning to install computer and tele-communication equipment and works installing cable during the day.  He has his own place and a car.  He couldn’t be happier to be here.  Thomas said, “Do not let anyone tell you that there is no work.  There is work everywhere for someone who’s willing to do it.  I can’t understand why everyone doesn’t work here.” 

Thomas can’t understand why Americans would rather take subsistence money from the government than to take care of themselves.  He pointed out that you make a network of people and that you gain skills, even when you do menial work.  Thomas explains that none of that happens when you take money from the government.  He can’t figure out how anyone thinks they will ever get out of poverty by taking money instead of working, even if they don’t earn as much as they could get by taking handouts for free.  He thinks all welfare does is hurt you in the long run.

I was amazed that my new Polish friend understands what it means to be an American far better than some Americans do.  I can’t help but wonder what the patriots who walked the streets of Williamsburg would think about the state of America today.  I suspect they would agree far more with the attitude of Thomas from Poland than many from the USA.  Thomas reminds me that being an American is far more than a birthplace; it is an ideal, a state of mind.  We would all do well to learn from Polish American Thomas.  He understands what it means to take responsibility, work, sacrifice, save and prosper.