Canadian Film set ready, our coffee shop is a gathering spot for the farming locals. The decor is best described as very simple and clean. Let’s just say it’s casual. There is a small grocery shelf and an ice cream freezer. Pop coolers line one wall and a few chocolate bars are available beside the jar of gummy worms. The door swings all day long on the weekends but closes early afternoon during the week. The place opens very early and tables are filled at seven a.m. Mostly men and a few very long-suffering wives sit at the tables drinking coffee and eating scrambled eggs with toast. As far as I know nobody tips.
Generally quietly reserved, the atmosphere is friendly and neighbourly but low-key. However, a couple of older guys that frequent the place can really shake things up. As soon as they arrive and boom out a greeting to each other with “Well sir, what do you say ….”? you are in for loud and free information on any given topic. Others join in happily and a faculty of knowledge assembles at the long table. At this point everyone is well within earshot and then things get out of control.
Once when I was ill and took a week off from work on doctor’s orders I found out that my personal business was the topic for the day. Apparently it was big news that my car remained in the driveway for a week and everyone was a tad curious. Well, wouldn’t you want to know? Instead of getting the correct name of my illness which happened to be cellulitus ( a serious cellular infection) it was instead called cellulite in the table’s discussion group. So, as far as everyone I know is concerned I took the week off from work because of serious cellulite. Folks still call out to me at any given time….”so sorry to hear about your cellulite.” It’s hard to live that down.
Another time after a community drama event that I worked on I heard that my efforts were being talked about favourably enough except for the fact that one of these loud talkers was calling me” the local thespian”. This was a rather poor choice of words because most of the old-timer folks in the coffee shop didn’t really know what that means. Hence, I get a few well-meaning and tolerant looks from time to time. I know it could be worse and probably will be one of these days. Wait till they find out that I’m a blogger. I wonder what they will have to say about that.
Now that I’m retired too I expect to spend a few more coffee breaks and lunches there. Hey, some days I don’t want to cook and I have a hankering for a hot turkey sandwich. I plan to take copious notes and soak up the expertise of these guys as you can’t make this stuff up. Well maybe you could but you don’t have to around here.
An Embarrassment of Freedom 