Lunch

Yesterday I ate lunch at the local pool hall in town again. A sign advises customers, "Please drink beer in the pool room before 1 PM unless you are ordering a meal."

I am fascinated by the ambience of the place, the spare cleanness, the home-like atmosphere where people can do what they like, relax, drink a beer, smoke a cigarette, chew the fat, while in the background plays the country music that makes it seem like you've gone back in time: Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs playing Bluegrass like a dancing fire, Johnny Cash and the Maybelle Carter family, Merle Haggard, Furlin Husky, all the old ones. The music's far way from my education in classical music, but I am drawn to it for its honesty and timelessness-can't resist its appeal.

My waitress is a bundle of enthusiastic energy. She's probably 25 or 26, with naturally blonde hair in a bouncing pony tail. "Hey, honey, whatcha' want today?" she asks. She leans close to speak because of all the noise.

I give my order and she nearly runs back to the counter to hand the cook the pale green and white slip of paper. No more than five minutes later the meal is in front of me. It also is very country: a pork chop so tender you can cut it with a fork sits atop a huge bed of collards, the first fresh ones of the season in this area. There are also fresh yams cooked in orange juice and nutmeg, and a helping of potato salad. Two potatoes in one meal? (I've ordered the "special" for Fridays.) And there's a roll. It is delicious.

I've just begun to eat when the waitress returns. "Everything all right, sweetie?" Her goodwilled energy pours through and I grin at her. "Can I bring you anything else? You want more napkins? I'll refill your tea glass in a minute." She bounces off to somebody else, spreading a feel-good joy around. Pretty soon she's back. "Want another roll?" She's very "Southern" with this pressing of goodwill and food upon you (even if you're paying for it). That's what people do if you eat in their homes. Food is an unabashed pleasure, to both partake of or to prepare for others.

The music reminds me of other times and places, brings a kind of nostalgia for something I've never even known. Patsy Cline sings "Sweet Dreams of You", which I just heard in "Coal Miner's Daughter" the other day.

"Hey! buddy!" one guy shouts to a friend who walks in the door. "Ain't seen you in a LONG time." My waitress hugs the newcomer and asks about his girlfriend. He talks to her for a while and then goes over to hug his friend. He orders a beer and they go into the poolroom, talking energetically. About ten people are already knocking balls around on the tables. It's busier today than usual.

Half-way through the meal I realize that I'm getting pretty full. But it's so good, with all those different tastes, that I don't want to leave any of it. So I finish it. When I get up to pay my bill, the waitress walks by and gives me a quick hug. I don't even know her name!

I'm stuffed and struggle all afternoon to stay awake. Remembering hugs and goodwill and country food and music. Not a bad Friday lunch. I don't eat anything for dinner, though.

Anne Yohn
October 28, 2000