Mid waffle, my wife asked me to look around. There were about 50 people packed into the little coffee shop: a broad range of ages, demographics, colors, native languages, etc. All pleasantly rubbing elbows with one another. A melting pot, with syrup.
This is the real St Louis, the real America.
We shouldn't forget that.
I'm probably the only person in my town that's not eaten at a waffle house, but there's this little diner in town where breakfast is good and cheap. Same thing - from the local neurosurgeon to the folks that work in the factories, enjoying a tasty breakfast, some conversation and a smile. It's nice to see. I hope your world stays calm this week.
ReplyDeleteGive me a faded Mom and Pop diner over a corporate "store" any day. The food is made with care and not a little self, and the experience is real. It is a visceral connection with the neighborhood, the community, and their history.
ReplyDeletePutting myself through school as an industrial electrician, I often worked in downtown LA. In the fabric district there was a tiny diner - no more than 6 or 7 open air bar stools clustered around a grill. The gruff, old bastard at the grill did everything. The food was simple, good, hot and quick, and you could stand a spoon straight up in the heavy coffee mug. Perfect for us.
One morning I took a look at the curled photos tacked to the back wall. All featured groups of young men in uniforms, naval fatigues or flight suits, clustered around B-24s in a tri-color camo scheme: PB4Ys?
He had indeed flow the PB4Y-1, but his real job was Chief for a squadron of the planes. His mission was providing the best aircraft for "my boys" to fly against the Japanese in the early years of WWII. I had no doubt the birds were the best that could be on those improvised island airbases.
The cook was astonished that anyone remembered the PB4Y, even though it was a mere 40 years after the end of the war. He was more than happy to proudly reminisce. My foreman swore I always got an extra egg or strip of bacon when we ate there, but I was absorbed learning about those desperate days.
You don't get that at an industrial, sterile Denny's.