Conversations at the local cafe - Part One
How one question changed everything
I needed coffee. And the memory of granola pancakes was just too much of a pull to say no.
So I drove into town, a short two miles from an Airbnb back in the secluded hills. The winding single-lane road made me feel like I was a million miles away from civilization, even though the town was a hop, skip and a jump away. It was the perfect place to squirrel away and work on my keynote presentation.
The rental left me with an opened bag of 7-Eleven coffee and it wasn’t good. My brain needed a proper shot of java and I knew just the place to get it - an old greasy spoon cafe in the middle of town.
I walked in and immediately felt the eyeballs of the locals washing over me. Tourists don’t normally get up this early. I felt like the subject of that Bob Segar song “Turn The Page.” I love that song. The horns and the magical lyrics get me every time.
And you feel the eyes upon you as you're shakin' off the cold
You pretend it doesn't bother you but you just want to explode
I didn’t want to explode, I just wanted coffee. I found a seat at the bar where a waitress named Candy poured me a cup without nary a word. I surveyed the landscape and heard the typical conversations you’d expect from the locals:
Last night’s wind. An unexpectedly cool morning. The new barn that someone was erecting. Too many damn tourists. I think that one might have been meant for me.
Candy was at the ready every time I set my mug down. “What do you want to eat darling?” Candy asked. I told her. She gave me a half-smile and a wink. Probably thought I was from California or something. Was granola on pancakes a dead giveaway? Or was it the soccer shorts on a morning when everyone else was in jackets?
That’s when he walked in.
Clearly a local but somehow still a stranger in this little community hot spot. People glanced at him but paid him no mind as they went back to their conversations and plates of eggs and pancakes. He beelined it for what I can only think was ‘his stool,’ which happened to be right next to mine.
I said, “Good morning.” You know, trying to be a good Rippler. A swing and a miss, he didn’t even look my way. He seemed pretty old so I pretended not to be offended.
Candy came with coffee in hand and a few pills, which she set down in front of him. Could Candy be his daughter? My curiosity was piqued. He popped his pills in his mouth and downed it with a big swig of coffee.
“Now that’s full service,” I joked. He didn’t say a word. I was 0-2 now in my Ripple attempts. The guy to my left seemed to chuckle.
My plate arrived and I dug in. Their granola pancakes are like none other and went down easy, even though they aren’t on my approved diet. My wife was nowhere in sight so I was gonna enjoy every last bite. Oh, and I can’t forget the delicious and perfectly crisp bacon. My mouth is still watering as I think about it. Again, not on the approved list.
Candy came with the old man’s plate almost immediately. Funny, I hadn’t seen him order. He just sat there, drinking his coffee and not looking at a soul. I remember thinking, he clearly was lost in his own thoughts.
Then it happened. He spoke.
Not to me. Not to Candy. But he clearly spoke. By this point, I was reading an article on my cell phone as I enjoyed what was left of my breakfast. It startled me because it came out of nowhere.
I said, “I’m sorry sir, did you say something?” He just stayed staring straight ahead.
But every time he took a forkful of eggs, he said something before gobbling up what was on his fork. After the second or third time, I was certain he was saying something to me.
“Are you talking to me?” This time he glanced at me.
No verbal acknowledgment whatsoever. But his brilliant blue-green eyes caught mine. I swear, they literally sparkled. We held contact until the guy to my left broke the connection.
“Oh don’t mind him, Earle’s crazy. He talks to his dead wife.”
What? I needed to know more.