When I was a young girl of 15, (A few years ago haha!) I waited tables at a local greasy spoon. Sunday mornings like clockwork, 3 guys on in age would show up in overalls and work clothes, long retired they maintained waking up at the crack of dawn and beating it out the door. Old habits never die!
They would show up separately. They seemed annoyed and grumpy upon their
arrival, but they always sat together, with a newspaper and a pensive energy in
front of them. They would nod at one
another as they took what seemed to be their assigned seats. Steaming coffee would be poured.
And one would clear his throat and start… “I heard rumor that when the quarry
cuts that mountain Route 23’ll bypass town completely…”
And so would begin the heated debate on any number of
topics. They would quiet down as
breakfast was served and eaten, then with energy only eggs and bacon could
supply, they would spark back up again with renewed vigor. (Cholesterol meds be damned!) The conversation
would range from wonderment and aggravation as to how the hell the local
municipalities allowed certain development to pass…roads…taxes…local/national
politics…
Then there would be and abrupt, although somewhat ceremonial,
parting of ways.
Some days they would leave on a good note, sometimes they
would leave totally pissed off at one another.
And I would think “Well that’s the end of that – they are done with
eachother!” But Sunday would roll around and there they were again…in overalls
and suspenders ready to launch another tirade.
This seemed haphazard to me for a few weeks. Then I caught on. It was a cosmic plan, these three had a
standing appointment every single week to air their concerns, gossip, review
lottery numbers, to buy scratchoffs, and ‘enjoy’ each others company (like it
was their job!).
They met… Even though many times they wouldn’t even
smile…they met. Even though the debate
seemed like an argument…they met. Even though they were annoyed at the thought
of one another breathing…they met.
I learned I was allowed to stay within earshot as long as I
kept the coffee coming but left their plates alone – never rushing them -no
matter how busy we were. They were The Three
Kings of the diner, the last stand, the political barometer, and the ultimate
unsung watchdogs of the community.
As I got older in the hustle and bustle of working 2 jobs,
raising 2 kids, paying bills, and trying to scratch a life out…I found them
once again. At the indoor farmstand at
the crack of dawn when the cinnamon doughnuts hit the grease…I found them. At the diner on swivel seats at the counter…I
found them. In the deli at wooden tables
with mismatched green vinyl chairs and worn out wood floors…I found them.
I’ve come to understand that they are an important fabric to
our community. And in some bizarre exchange of time I’ve come to trust them, and
am comforted by their existence. My
boyfriend calls these meeting places “Tables of Knowledge” and his father is
rumored to hold a high seat in one of them.
He says he himself has a ‘guest appearance’ once in a while but hasn’t
enough ‘life’ under his belt to garnish a permanent spot…yet.
Many of these men raised families, owned local businesses,
volunteered in the community, fought in wars so that my kids could wear sport
uniforms, ride bikes, worry about girls, and hold onto a carefree childhood
perhaps a bit longer than they did.
If they seem grumpy they’ve earned that right. The unspoken rule; When they crack a joke,
keep your poker face, God forbid they find you listening – they will clam up
tighter than a ducks ass in July. Look and you will find them. Listen and you will learn. If they should talk to you smile and nod – but
don’t overstay your welcome…they’ve important business to attend to!
May those guys never disappear.
Good Energy and Better
Coffee to them always!
