Now that I live in a metropolitan area I have adapted to the magic of the business lunch. “Hey, let me buy you lunch sometime and we’ll talk about that.” Recently my schedule called for three breakfast meetings, four lunch meetings and a couple of dinner things.
Lunch was altogether different at the barber shop. I recall watching the clock, growing hungry and for a lull that would allow us to go eat. Since my family rarely ate outside the home, walking across the street to Woody’s Café loomed as a Saturday treat. Over the years I passed the hamburger-and-fries stage and grew to anticipate a cheeseburger with onion rings.
One day I ordered with Mom. (She was the Saturday help, extra barber, and that’s another story to be told later.) Anyway, she ordered a chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and corn. And I learned to love cottage cheese with peaches. Taking my break from the shoe shine chair and eating at the café was a welcomed relief. The food was a much anticipated treat.
To this day one of my small habits is to seek out a rural diner/café/restaurant. One where there are family pictures on the wall, a sports schedule for the local high school team, out-dated décor and pictures with horses. Continue reading Barbershop Theology, Part 3: Table or Booth?