I eat through her entire life story. Never have I enjoyed potatoes so much. At Milda’s the American fries have just the right amount of grease and residual grill flavor (a mixture of hamburger, bacon, and grilled cheese), plus the onion bits are charred to perfection.
Less than an hour has passed. But I already know Alexander well enough to ask the right questions. There must be a lot of desperate people coming through the impound lot — is that hard to see?
She nods.
And sometimes you figure out how to help them, don’t you?
She answers slowly, carefully. “Because of everything I do in my life, I see the whole system. It used to be you worked hard and you got ahead. Now, it’s not that way any more. So when people come to me crying, saying they need their cars — they don’t have the money, but they’re going to lose their job or won’t be able to get their kids to daycare — I have to help. But what I try to do is give them resources to help themselves.”
She pauses and looks up for a moment before going on. “That’s ministry. It’s not glamour or standing up in front of people. It’s literally working in the community to improve it and give people what they need to become self-sufficient.”
We stand to leave. I’m full of fries, and my hard-edged reporter shtick is at an all-time low. As I gather my computer and supplies, I tell Alexander I’m actually glad my car was towed. This was one of the most pleasant lunches of my career.
She opens her arms wide and asks, “Are you a hugging person?” But she doesn’t wait for an answer before folding me up inside.