Hot dogs

Recently I made a trip to New York and Washington DC. New York City has cultural and culinary delights: Little Italy, eat ravioli; Times Square, pastrami at the Carnegie deli. The best was the Met and hot dogs.

It's about a particular hot dog vendor. I want to tell you, after several hours of touring the Met's magnificent art, I was starving. I exited through the Met's gigantic bronze doors onto a marble staircase that faces Fifth Avenue and Central Park. At street level stood two tiny trailers just large enough for one to stand and assemble franks. The cart on the right displayed a Marine Emblem. A sign below the emblem said, "David Gonzales, Sgt. KIA, June 1970." While ordering, I asked about Sgt. Gonzalez. The woman in the cart looked up, smiled, and said, he was my dad. I found out she, too, was a former Marine. She finished my order, and I reached for my wallet. With a wave of her hand, she said, "It's on me, Semper Fi."

How could I thank her? I took off the Marine cover I was wearing and handed it to her. I said here; it's brand new. You deserve this more than I do. Later that week, while in Washington, I visited the Wall. I found Sgt. Gonzales's name. As I touched his name, I told him how proud he could be of his daughter. 

If you get to NY, buy a frank from Ms. Gonzales, and tell her Semper Fi from Ed.