Kindness in Angel Camp, California
There was a bit of normalcy returning to our nomadic lifestyle in the summer of 2021. Our journey into the post-vaccination stage of our pandemic experience certainly felt different than the pre-vaccination stage, especially with our ability to dine out. While we still cooked breakfast at camp most days, prepared dinners that I cooked (those not eaten cold from a can) had become a rare thing. Even getting the small propane tank off the roof of the truck and setting up the grill was less frequent.
Camping near towns or intersections with access to restaurants added to this change. Suffering most from this new situation was our loyal old dog, Toohey, who no longer got to “bear-proof” dishes by removing all the food particles.
Our first night at an RV park in Angel Camp California, Calaveras County was a dining experience that turned into way more than a delightful culinary event, but insight into the goodness of the human heart.
Angel Camp was established during the gold rush era and named after a man named Angel who ran a mercantile. However, Rosie the Ribbet is way more famous than the Angel since this is the toad holding the world frog jumping record. Frog jumping was made famous here by the short story, The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, written by Mark Twain while he lived in this town, creating Angel Camp’s identity.
The town of Angel Camp has a short narrow main street with old gold rush-era, 1800s buildings lining both sides. The sidewalks are covered with the names of the champion frogs with their winning jump distances. As expected there is also a large mural of Mark Twain painted on the side of one of the buildings.
It was a quiet night as we strolled the main street passing a few cafe-sized restaurants and the usual small-town dive bar. We approached a restaurant called Cascabel and stopped to read the menu taped on the window by the front door.
We suddenly heard a voice coming from the passenger seat of a tan Tundra pickup truck parked directly behind us. Speaking through the rolled-down window, she began telling us that the restaurant was a really good place to eat. She went on to describe the brownie cheesecake, that her niece was the waitress — the only one with long braided pigtails, and that their dog, a large yellow lab lying in the back seat behind her, was just diagnosed with cancer and will likely be put down the next morning. Apparently, her twin sister who was the missing driver was inside breaking the news to her daughter while ordering an undercooked hamburger patty for the ailing pooch.
She got out of the truck to continue as the conversational mood turned somber based on the fate of the dog.
The twin sister came out of the restaurant to join in the conversation. We told them how sorry we were for their dog.
The topic quickly changed as they learned of our adventure. They gave us all types of ideas on things to do and see in the area. These complete strangers were kind and giving to us, serving as wonderful ambassadors to their community.
Our decision was made based on their endorsement, the kindness they had extended, and the news of their pooch.
We said goodbye and stepped through the door.
The restaurant consisted of one small open room with basic decor, which I referred to as simple Mexican. It was lively in conversation but without all the bright colors and flamboyant furnishings normally found in Mexican restaurants.
There were two young women working the front of the house and as described by the aunt, one had long braided pigtails. The menu had no color photographs of food, combination plates, or numbered entrées, but everything al-la-carte from the main entrees, appetizers, and desserts.
Our waitress, as luck would have it, was the one with the long braided pigtails. She was professional and attractive, dressed in trendy jeans and a t-shirt, keeping a friendly smile while obviously dealing with a small but busy restaurant and having just learned the news that her family dog wasn’t going to make it.
We ordered our food and drinks and then watched the human experience continue to unfold around us.
Her mom came back into the restaurant, moving around as if she owned the place, speaking to other patrons, and at one point stopping at a table of three who had a small dog, mostly to speak to their dog.
On another occasion, her mom stepped into the back kitchen to talk with the owners who were the chefs and then she helped herself to a soda fountain drink which is unusual in a full-service restaurant.
But with all that, it seemed her main purpose was to find an opportunity to give her daughter a big hug as she knew that even though she wore a smile while waiting on the customers, she was deeply saddened by the news of her dog.
As her mom left, her aunt entered and without the confidence of her twin sister, moved to the back near the kitchen where she stopped and leaned with her arms resting on the waitress’s counter. As with her twin sister, her point of being here was to give her niece a long emotional hug that ended with a gentle swipe of her eyes to remove her tears.
An obviously loving family dealing with some emotional toil. The aunt left only to return quickly as she forgot the second most important thing she came into the restaurant to do, retrieve the dog’s undercooked hamburger patty.
My radar for watching the room continued as we enjoyed our dinner. I noticed the gentleman who came in just before us, walked up to talk to the waitresses. I thought I heard, maybe a combo heard and lip read, he say something about paying a tab.
I continued to watch as after he left the restaurant, the waitress approached the table with three young people and their small dog to tell them that the couple behind them had paid their bill. I’ll never know why, but the generosity was felt deeply by all three.
The generosity, love, and positivity of the dining experience we observed tonight were more fulfilling than my fish tacos and fried avocado, which were both quite good.
An hour of our lives sitting in a relatively nondescript Mexican cafe in the town of Angel Camp California delivered much of what is good about humanity. Hugs, love, and sharing kindness when it was both needed and unexpected. And of course, the undercooked hamburger patty for the ill pooch.
We paid our bill and left a note for our waitress that we will be thinking of her as losing your family dog is hard and we dread the day that will certainly come with our senior dog. We didn’t get the brownie cheesecake dessert that night but boy we left there completely satisfied.
The story was originally published in our travel blog www.travelswithtoohey.com in June 2021.
