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Food for the soul: Beloved waitress' former employer delivers daily lunch to her nursing home

South Florida Sun Sentinel - 4/21/2017

April 21--The routine has been the same for the past six months.

Each day, Matt Cunningham leaves his post as bartender at Southport Raw Bar in Fort Lauderdale to make a delivery. He grabs a plastic bag from underneath the counter while waiting for the cooks to fill it with a lunch entree.

Some days, it's a hot dog. Others, it's a turkey or grilled cheese sandwich. Soda or water is added before Cunningham begins the 1 1/2 -mile drive to the Broward Nursing and Rehabilitation Center.

The meals are for former Southport waitress Donna Cronin, who suffered a slip and fall three years ago that left her with a brain hemorrhage.

After refusing to eat for months, many felt Cronin, 68, had given up on life. That's when the restaurant hatched the idea of daily deliveries, bringing her the foods she ate during her Southport lunch breaks for 38 years.

The results have Cronin once again smiling. Her spirits and weight are up -- she's gained 13 pounds since the deliveries began.

"She was going to be in hospice," said Cronin's daughter, Vicki Chase, 43. "She had a 'failure to thrive' diagnosis because she wasn't eating. She didn't want the pureed food they had here for her ... Them sending her lunch saved her life."

While the accident has affected her short-term memory, Cronin is appreciative each time lunch is served. The menu never disappoints.

"I really can't put into words how grateful I am," Cronin said.

'A career waitress'

As one of Southport's owners, Buddy Sherman has seen his share of waitresses come through. Most treat waitressing as a way to make a quick buck or as a steppingstone to something else.

For Cronin, it was a profession.

"You don't get them anymore," said Sherman, 53, of Fort Lauderdale. "People do this on their way through college. People do this to meet a rich guy. People do this until they get an inheritance from their grandmother. She was a career waitress."

Cronin worked the day shift from Mondays through Fridays for four decades. Her attendance was on par with Hall of Fame baseball player Cal Ripken Jr., rarely calling in sick. As Sherman put it, she was reliable "as the sun rising every day."

"The customers, she knew all about their children," said Tera Powell, a waitress who worked alongside Cronin for 30 years. "They were babies, and then they grew up, and then they're coming in with their babies."

When the restaurant made a new hire, Cronin made sure to scribble that person's birthday in her planner. This way, she knew when to bake or bring a cake. Her kindness especially touched Chris Chase, a former line cook. He used to tell Cronin his ideal significant other was "a younger version of Donna."

Then he met Cronin's daughter, who began working part-time at Southport during her summer breaks from attending Florida State University. A year later, Chase proposed at the Empire State Building, and they've been married ever since. The couple live in Cooper City.

"I would always tell her that I wish I could meet somebody like her," said Chris Chase, 45, who now works in trade shows. "A couple months later, her daughter was working at the cashier desk and I was like, 'Wow.' "

Cronin also made lasting impressions on the thousands of customers she encountered. They often made their way to her section, toward the waitress wearing the flannel shirt over her uniform to keep herself warm.

"You walked in there and she hugs and kisses you," said longtime Southport customer Robert Palmiotto said. "It was like you were just coming home to your place and having dinner."

'I thought she was dead'

Cronin always jumped at the opportunity to do anything with her grandchildren. She took them out to lunch and to the movies. Baby-sitting was a given. That's why her daughter found it odd when Cronin was a no-show to watch her youngest grandchild on the morning of Nov. 6, 2014.

The previous evening, Cronin had fallen in her living room, hurting her head and suffering a heart attack. She was unconscious for hours.

When Chris Chase arrived to investigate, there was no answer at the door. He entered the home by breaking a window and discovered Cronin on the floor. She was still wearing her work uniform. The television was on. Candles from the night before were still lit.

"When I turned her over, I thought she was dead," Chris Chase said.

Cronin spent the next six weeks in a medically induced coma. The diagnoses were not optimistic. It got so bad that the family referred to one physician as "Dr. Doom," because the outlook was always bleak.

After awakening from the coma, she had her first conversation with her daughter on New Year's Eve.

"That was the first time I felt like she interacted with me and was aware," Vicki Chase said.

Cronin spent a year in a Miami nursing home before being transferred to Broward in May 2015. She ate mostly from a feeding tube and, when it was removed, she switched to a "soft" diet consisting of vegetables and groundup meats. While the food was healthy, she only ate small portions.

Her weight dropped from 126 to 97 pounds.

It was then that Southport started the deliveries. According to the nursing home, when patients refuse to eat, they can request to bring in outside food.

The meals were just the latest in a long line of assists by the restaurant staff. When her mother's health first started deteriorating, Vicki Chase quit her job as an elementary school teaching aid. She wanted to spend as much time as possible with her because it felt like the end was near.

The Southport family went into immediate action to help offset the loss of income. They raised nearly $10,000 through fundraisers and customer donations. Helping was an easy decision for Sherman, who started as a bus boy there before becoming part-owner.

Years ago, servers only tipped the bus boys what they felt they deserved. Cronin held a meeting that led to them receiving a set percentage.

"If they liked you, they gave you 5 or 10 bucks," Sherman said. "If they didn't like you, they'd give you $3. Donna came in and changed all of that."

'Budweiser Matt' delivers

At first, Cunningham struggled with the deliveries to Cronin's room. Not because he had been friends with Cronin for more than 25 years, but because of the location.

Cunningham's mother had stayed in the same nursing home. She died in 2005. He felt she, too, had given up on her life.

"The first time they asked me to do it, I didn't know how I was going to act or how I was going to feel," said Cunningham, 45, who lives in Fort Lauderdale.

What made it tougher was that Cronin's room is directly across from where his mother died. The first day, he stopped at the elevator, almost didn't hit the button and contemplated turning around, he said.

"It was rough," Cunningham said. "After I did it, I realized me delivering this food to her has gotten me a little bit more peace in my life, too."

Most days, Cunningham leaves in a good mood. Cronin refers to him as "Budweiser Matt" because they met when he was working for a beer distribution company. When Cunningham made deliveries to Southport, Cronin was typically the first to greet him and offer him a cup of ice water.

Because of her condition, there also are days when Cronin has no idea who Cunningham is.

But it doesn't matter.

"It's not going to stop me from going every day," Cunningham said. "A smile on her face, for even a little bit, that means the world to me.

"I know what it's like to see my mother not eat and fade away. I don't want to see her fade away like my mother did."

srichardson@sun-sentinel.com; on Twitter @shandelrich

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(c)2017 the Sun Sentinel (Fort Lauderdale, Fla.)

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