“Well, I really don’t mind the rain
And a smile can hide all the pain
But you’re down when you’re ridin’ the train that’s takin’ the long way
And I dream of the things I’ll do”
Rhinestone Cowboy-Glen Campbell
My grandmother owned a diner. Lately I’ve been having glimpses of the moments from when I was younger and the time I spent there. The smell of grease permeating the air and so thick you could cut it with a knife, and the coloring books she kept behind the counter for me were always a bit wrinkled and the crayons even held a sheen of grease. The jukebox in the corner of course always beckoned, and though I wasn’t familiar with a lot of what was one there, she showed me the special place in the back where I could grab a quarter out and play whatever I wanted. I remember playing this song, Mr. Bojangles and of course Happy Birthday over and over again ad nauseam. I think it was a ploy for attention because when I got on those whims to make her angry, she’d give me another bottle of Squirt (sure, give the kid even more sugar and make her sit still), tell me to stop and sit down and get busy coloring. She’s been dead for so many years now, years spent there working her fingers to the bone and “testing” every pot of soup, every casserole and pretty much everything that she created as she wouldn’t serve something that didn’t meet her approval, years of all of it clogging her arteries and slowing her down. I still like hitting a greasy spoon for a cheap breakfast, but somehow, without the jukebox or the bottle of Squirt and coloring books, it just ain’t the same anymore. I couldn’t find an actual photo of her diner, it is a restaurant still after having gone from the Raceway Diner to Donut Land now to the current Pegasus which is more upscale (but still a slight smell of grease in the air though) so this one of Mom’s Diner will have to give you a rough image to set the mood. I think I prefer where the lights and fresh air are shining on me now…..