My Way of Thanks
Lakewood has a lot of people to be proud of. A few weeks ago, someone from Roy wrote a letter to the editor about her wallet. The woman had left it on top of her car in Lakewood before she drove off. Someone found the wallet and brought it to the sheriff. The woman recovered the wallet and all the money inside.
The woman seemed rather frustrated because she had no idea who helped her. No names, no address. So she wrote a letter to the editor, shouting her gratitude to the void. We can only hope the right person heard her thanks.
I'm fortunate, because I know the name of the person who helped my family. IÕll even take you to where she works.
Let's back up a second. My mom and dad came to town a few weeks ago. They flew on an airplane from San Jose, Calif., on a scouting expedition. They plan to move here. They want to be near their grandchildren, and possibly even want to be near their son.
I hadn't realized it in advance, but this was a big adventure for them. My dad hasn't been on an airplane since the Army flew him to Alaska during World War II. I'm not sure when my mother was on a plane. Both were excited and dazzled by the size of Sea-Tac, and all the stuff I showed them on our motor tour of Lakewood and Steilacoom.
The next day, I went to work. They were set loose to drive around town, looking for rentals. They started the day by going someplace familiar: McDonald's.
They stopped at the McDonald's on 100th Street. They sat at the right front booth, ate their ice cream, and left. They left the restaurant and my mom's purse.
The purse stayed inside the booth. There wasn't a whole lot of money inside, but there were plane tickets, credit cards, and so forth.
Now, McDonald's is a busy place. Lots of people go to and fro. But my parents had nothing to fear. Let's meet Melverta Dial.
Melverta is a "store activities representative." What that means in practical terms is that she goes into the seating area to check on people, refill their coffee, host children's parties, etc... She's been doing that job at the restaurant for a decade. Melverta loves her job.
When my parents realized what had happened, they were quite worried because they are used to 'big city; treatment. And they headed to the store within the hour. Melverta was waiting for them.
This sort of thing is old hat to Melverta. People leave things all the time at McDonald's. There was one purse she remembers with $700 inside.
If an item goes unclaimed after a half hour or so, Melverta looks through the material to see if there is a phone number. In my mom's case, there was no local number. But Melverta found the plane ticket.
"I gave her 30 minutes to come back. I think it took them 45," she says.
My parents come from the old-fashioned idea that you ought to reward someone in this situation. But they felt funny about giving money to Melverta. So my dad told me to write a column about her.
It turned out to be a heckuva idea, because this trip is taking us inside a lovely little segment of Lakewood. Melverta took the job after her husband, Johnson, retired from the Army and after the kids left the house. Melverta, always grinning, is outgoing. "I'll speak to people whether they speak to me or not," she says. "I just love to be around people."
People love to be around Melverta. You can tell from the banter among the staff that she's an important and vibrant part of the place. She also hosts the "breakfast club." The 15 or so members are mostly what Melverta calls "mature ladies," with a sprinkling of younger folk and men, who gather from coffee every day.
"They solve the world's problems, and then leave," Melverta says.
Club member Gladys Walton, retired from a job at Clover Park Technical College, is a little more blunt: "We come for gossip and good coffee."
Melverta "is really the most personable person," Walton says. "She's always happy."
It turns out that my mother and father got a nicer introduction to Lakewood than we expected. Because they met Melverta. And we all found a thread in Lakewood's rich community.