Thursday, Nov. 22, 2018 | 2 a.m.
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On Veterans Day, I was having breakfast in a diner on East Desert Inn Road. In honor of my fellow veterans and my country, I was wearing a cap that depicted a picture of the USS Bryce Canyon, one of the ships I served on during the Korean War.
A waitress came over and asked if I was a veteran. I proudly said I was.
She then picked up my check and said that the lady in the booth in front of me wanted to buy my breakfast.
I looked at this lady, who appeared to have come from one of those s-hole countries in Latin America from whence we import our rapists and murderers. She did not appear to be a person of great means and was sitting with her two very well-behaved young children.
I got up to leave and stopped to thank her, and in return, in her broken English, she profusely thanked me for my service. I introduced myself to her children and then rushed out of the diner, so as not to let them see me with tears streaming my face.
It was one of the greatest gifts I have ever received, particularly in this time of such vicious racial hatred.
This is the kind of gesture that makes America great.
