Coffee, a Croissant and a Woman Who Never Misses

by Abdul-Hakim Shabazz, Esq.

Yesterday I had a hearing in Hendricks County, and on the way back I did what any responsible adult does after a morning in court. I stopped at the Panera on Raceway Drive for a coffee and a chocolate croissant. Yes, I know. Please don’t tell the Lovely Mrs. Shabazz. You’ll understand why in a minute.

So there I was, croissant in one hand, tablet in the other, doing very important work that may or may not have involved scrolling, when a gentleman walked over to my table.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you Abdul, the guy on the radio?”

I told him that depends. If you like the show, yes. If you don’t, no. I get that question a lot, and that answer has gotten me out of more than one awkward grocery store conversation.

Lucky for me, he liked the show. His name was Jim. He said he recognized my voice, that he’d been listening for years, and that I did a great service for the community.

I’ve been in this business about 30 years, and whenever someone compliments the show, I always say thank you and tell them I appreciate the kind words. I mean it, too. It’s because of folks like them that I don’t have to go out and get a real job.

Then I told Jim the rest of the truth: I couldn’t do what I do if it weren’t for people like him.

You see, Jim is a veteran. He’s 88 years old, and he served in Southeast Asia in the years before Vietnam became a war, back when most Americans couldn’t have found the place on a map and the folks sent there didn’t get parades or headlines. They went because they were asked.

That’s the part that gets lost. I get to sit behind a microphone and say what I think about the governor, the mayor, the attorney general and anyone else who wanders into range. I get to ask rude questions and publish things that make powerful people cranky. And all of us get to go on social media, argue with total strangers and say some truly stupid things, sometimes before breakfast. The only reason we can do any of that is because of veterans. The First Amendment is a wonderful thing, but somebody has to keep the lights on for it.

I’ve always had a special spot for veterans. I grew up on military bases, so I was around men and women in uniform long before I knew what a press release was. My dad served. My brother served. And then there’s the Lovely Mrs. Shabazz.

I did not learn about my wife’s military service the way you’d expect. No candlelit dinner. No heartfelt confession. I learned it at my mother-in-law’s house while she was going through some old boxes.

In one of them were military ribbons. Marksmanship ribbons. For shooting.

I said I didn’t know she had these.

My mother-in-law gave me the look mothers-in-law reserve for sons-in-law and told me they weren’t hers. They were my wife’s.

I was still processing that when she added, helpfully, that my wife could pick me off from “several miles” away.

Now, I’m a lawyer. I know an exaggeration when I hear one. I also know that when the burden of proof involves my own survival, I am not volunteering to test the evidence. Let’s just say the news encouraged me to do two things: learn to run in a zigzag pattern and take out the trash without being asked.

But here’s the serious part. That’s how a lot of veterans are. They don’t lead with it. My wife didn’t. Jim didn’t walk over to talk about himself; he walked over to say something nice about me. The service gets folded up and put in a box, and you only find out about it if you happen to be standing there when someone opens it.

So today, open the box. Ask the question. If you’re at a Panera, a ballgame or a Statehouse hallway and you see someone in a veterans cap, buy the coffee. Throw in a croissant. They earned it.

To Jim and every veteran, to my late dad, to my brother and to my wife, who could still end me from an undisclosed distance: thank you. Happy Veterans Day.

“Thank you for your service” has turned into something we say on autopilot, like “have a nice day.” So let me be clear: I do a whole lot more than appreciate your service. I owe you for it.   We all do.

Abdul-Hakim Shabazz is the editor and publisher of IndyPolitics.org and an attorney licensed in Indiana and Illinois. He has never once lost an argument with his wife, mainly because he’s never started one.