Still Serving

By Jake Lillehaug

The smell of smoked fish and meats greeted us as we descended the stone steps into Northern Waters Smokehaus in Duluth.

Tucked into the lower level of a building in Canal Park, the restaurant has an intimate, almost cave-like atmosphere, with stonework, brick walls and small windows near the ceiling.

It was also packed.

My wife and I were in Duluth for emergency medicine and fire chiefs’ conferences, and we had slipped away for lunch at a restaurant we’d wanted to try since seeing it on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives.

Finding a seat was nearly as challenging as getting our sandwiches.

We eventually shared a table with an older couple. The gentleman wore an American Legion cap, which naturally started a conversation.

He was a Vietnam veteran who had served with a reconnaissance unit during the late 1960s.

As we waited for our food, we began swapping stories about military service, shared hardships, and the experiences that shape us.

Then he said something that has stayed with me.

He had never hated his enemy.

He explained that he was there doing his job, just as the soldiers fighting against him believed they were doing theirs.

He spoke about reading Lieutenant General Hal Moore’s books, particularly We Are Soldiers Still, which describes Moore’s return to Vietnam and his meetings with former adversaries.

What struck me most was how he talked about the Vietnamese civilians.

He remembered villages caught between two opposing forces, with families facing suspicion and danger regardless of which side passed through.

He understood that the people living there were simply trying to survive.

As he shared his memories, there were smiles, laughter and moments when his eyes filled with tears. His voice remained steady, but I could tell some of those experiences had never really left him.

For a moment, while we sat eating sandwiches in Duluth, I wondered if part of him was thousands of miles away, remembering a place he had visited more than half a century ago.

Eventually, his wife joined the conversation. We talked about their blended family, grandchildren, and even a great grandchild and the places they had traveled together.

Suddenly, the conversation shifted from war to a lifetime of living.

I’ve written often about the importance of community, but sometimes we forget that community can begin with a complete stranger.

It doesn’t require knowing someone’s name, sharing their opinions or having similar experiences.

Sometimes it simply requires being willing to listen.

Our trip to Duluth has been filled with conferences, good food, beautiful scenery and time with friends. But I suspect the moment I’ll remember longest is the unexpected conversation over lunch.

So this week, I encourage you to strike up a conversation with someone new. Ask a question. Listen to their answer. Be willing to learn something from a person whose life has been different from yours.

You never know what stories might be waiting across the table.

And sometimes, the most meaningful part of a journey isn’t where you go, but who you meet along the way.

If you have a story idea, know someone making a difference, or would simply like to share your thoughts about the column, I’d love to hear from you. You can email me at jhlillehaug@gmail.com. Please put STILL SERVING in the subject line so I don’t miss it.