by Emma Chabolla
My cousin Zach and I were waiting with our moms to board a plane en route to Stockton, CA for the traditional grandchildren's trip to visit Nana and Papa. While waiting at the terminal, we spotted a man dressed in an authentic Confederate Civil War uniform, complete with the fake gun (I have no idea how he got away with that). Aunt Susie and my mom said goodbye and sent us onto the plane, hoping we wouldn't have to sit next to the reenactor, who, by the way, was talking to anyone who would listen to him about the Civil War. Unlucky for us, it was a Southwest flight so seats are first come-first serve and we ended up seated next to this man. I was in the middle seat and Zach was in the window; we exchanged disappointed and uncomfortable glances as he sat down and began trying to start a conversation with us. Before the flight took off, the man got up to go to the bathroom. Zach, feeling he was the responsible 'adult' on the trip and had to take care of me (I was 11 and he was 12), traded seats with me so I wouldn't have to sit next to him. That is something I will always remember fondly about Zach: his selflessness and willingness to do something kind to others, even if it meant he had to listen to a Civil War buff talk to him for 3 hours.
