A simple act of generosity in Morro Bay

January 5, 2025

By DELL FRANKLIN

Editor’s Note: The following series, “Life in Radically Gentrifying Cayucos by the Sea,” to be posted biweekly includes the notes, thoughts, and opinions of an original American voice: author Dell Franklin. 

Franklin’s memoir, “The ballplayer’s Son” is currently on Amazon.

I was talking to a friend the other day about small town niceties and acts of consideration and sometimes generosity. He mentioned that at crossing walks in either Morro Bay or Cayucos, when people are giving indication they are crossing, he always starts slowing down way before arriving at the crosswalk instead of coming to an abrupt stop.

“Do people nod at you or wave in thanks?” I asked.

“Sometimes, sometimes not.”

“I always wave when somebody stops for me,” I said. “I was raised to always say thank you. I sometimes wonder why some people watch you slow down and give them yards of leeway and they never say thanks or nod at you, don’t even acknowledge you, and take their time crossing the street. It bothers me. It smacks of a sense of entitlement.”

“Some people, especially young people, just don’t know any better.”

He then mentioned that when the sun is behind him and low when he is driving on mornings in his neighborhood, he realizes the people driving toward him or even crossing a street may not be able to see what he is going to do through the glare, so he always slows down to give them a wide birth, and usually when they pass, they wave thanks.

This happens a lot in Cayucos and I suppose in Morro Bay, too. It is so easy and simple to behave this way. And then sometimes people really surprise you.

Like the morning of a weekday, after tennis, when I stopped at the Buttercup Bakery in Morro Bay. I usually go there every Saturday morning after tennis with my tennis partner and drink coffee and eat muffins and enjoy the patio, enjoy watching the people, enjoy running into old friends, enjoy sometimes engaging with tourists or people you don’t know beforehand, and sometimes make friends with dogs.

It’s been a little over two years since my big old brown Lab Wilbur passed on, and since at my age I’m not going to get another dog, I keep treats in my pockets for mostly Cayucos dogs on mornings at Cayucos Coffee or the seawall.

But this time, as I walked into the Buttercup, I noticed a young gal sitting at a table eating while her chocolate Lab, who resembled Wilbur, sat before her in begging position.

So I went back to my car and found some biscuits and asked the gal if her dog wanted a treat, and she said of course he did, smiling. The dog very politely accepted two treats and the lady thanked me and I told her that just being around dogs, any dog, but especially a Lab, made my day better.

Then I was back in the Buttercup and waiting behind a husky guy with a gray pony tail in work boots. When he started to order, he turned to me and said, “What are you having? Coffee? A muffin? Let me get it.”

I was flummoxed. “No, no, but thanks,” I said. “I’m just getting a muffin to go.”

“I got it,” he said with conviction, and with that I had no choice but to order a muffin, which he handed me, and I said thanks, and he said, “I saw you give that dog a treat. That was a nice gesture.”

“Well, I’m a sucker for dogs,” I admitted.

“Me, too.”

I introduced myself and we shook hands and I walked off with my muffin, waving to the girl and her dog. And I thought to myself, this is the way we’re supposed to be—with everybody.