I have a friend named Casey.
I first met Casey in the Spring of 2000. I was a 27 year old unemployed new father.
In order to not be a complete deadbeat for my wife and new baby boy, I decided it would probably be the decent thing to do, if I went ahead and got a job.
So, as a young man, with a college degree in broadcast journalism, who had zero television stations knocking down my door, I decided to wait tables.
I took a job at a popular restaurant in Norman, Oklahoma called Charleston’s. Casey was one of the first people I met. In fact, I’m pretty sure she was assigned to me as a trainer.
Here I am, 27, college educated, being trained by a snotty nosed college sophomore. Just in case you wondered, humble pie is thick, and it tastes like chicken strips.
Truthfully, Casey was not snotty nosed, to the best of my recollection anyway, but she was nice. Casey and I worked there together until I left in 2002.
I haven’t seen her since.
You see, my friend Casey, lost her home in the May 20th tornado in Moore, Oklahoma. She’s no longer at that restaurant waiting tables, she too, now has a college degree, and a good job at a local recycling company.
But she has no home.
What she does have, is the heart of a frickin’ lion.