Dinner at Watson's

Pulling up the old building it seemed to be a misplaced relic that had managed to stand its ground in the chaos of the 21st century.  It had seen two lives.  The first as a bank in the early 1900s and the second as Watson's Bar.  In 1935 it shifted from banking to--well whatever one does in a bar.  

This old structure is a cafe/bar.  Opening the door we were greeted by a tiny, brown, curly haired dog.  Tail wagging, she waited for our greeting and a pet.  Three men sat at the opposite end of the bar with smoke curling around their heads and a drink of choice in front of them.  One strumed a guitar and hummed softly.    Old locals from the Menan area, they looked up and waved us on in.  "Come on in and sit right up here," one said.  As we hesitated a woman entered through a swinging door and walked towards us smiling.  "Do you serve food?" I asked.  "Sure do.  Have a seat and I'll grab a menu.  Sorry we are all out of elk burger today."  "Well, that is a disappointment," I said.  She laughed and asked what we wanted to drink.  "A tall glass of water for both of us."

Just listening to the conversations while we ate was like the beginning of a novel.  Roy, the owner of the dog had the most to say.  He talked about a fishing trip to Island Park with no money in his pocket.  The buddy he went with had enough to rent a boat and that emptied his pocket.  Periodically, he called Coco back to his side and apologized to us because he was afraid she was a pest.  She just added flavor to the already spiced atmosphere.  Coco cried and begged him to be allowed on his lap and sure enough he picked her up and she also sat at the bar minus the drink.

Don't call me Darlin oh no don't call me Darlin wails the guitar player and everyone joins in the chorus.  Coco sits quietly without joining in.  The backdoor opens and two more locals wander in.  Lots of how you doing--hay there Roy-- oh, Coco you little cutie and pats on the backs.  The two men sit next to us.  One has short gray hair and is obviously older than the other.  He sits down and throws a purse on the bar.  Opps, it is a woman and the other gentleman's mother no less.  Excuse me!

Randy comes in the front door--More pats and howdy dos go the rounds. I know for sure Randy is not a women because he sports a full beard and no purse.  He pulls a wallet out of his pocket and walks to the ATM machine.

 As a quiet observer I wish I knew the story of each person--where have they been, what have they seen.  I see lives far different from mine.  I am sure that they have lived hard and worked hard, yet I can sense the friendship and caring they share for each other .We were definitely outsiders, but it doesn't matter.  They invited us back May 7th for the Kentuckey Durby party.  It will be lots of fun they tell us.

Yes, we were out of our eliment, but that was okay.  We need diversity in our lives.  It is important to remember we all live together in various ways.  Even if our paths cross only once or just occasionally we all  have many things in common.  The main lesson to be learned from lunch at Watson's Bar--we were welcomed and accepted into their private place.

Pictures from our walk through Deer Park Land Perserve near the Menan Butes