JJ's - The Home of Social Networking
Highway 72, from Memphis to its junction with I-24, 30 miles
northwest of Chattanooga, is a well-travelled four lane highway that passes
through both northern Mississippi and Alabama.
About halfway between Memphis and I-24 is the small-town of Cherokee,
Alabama. On the north side of Highway
72, between the Exxon station and the pharmacy, is JJ’s Restaurant.
I had breakfast there last Saturday morning like I’ve done a
few times in the past few months. There
are two distinct customer sections inside JJ’s.
The first, or center ring as I think of it, is the one you enter when
you step through the door. There are six
booths and three tables in the center ring.
The booths are arranged three on the outside wall and three on the
opposite wall with the tables running lengthwise in the center.
I never sit in the center ring. It’s just too busy for me, and I have an idea
that you have to have a reservation to
sit in one of the booths or a special invitation to be sit at the center tables
which appear to be reserved for guest speakers.
To reach ring number two, you must pass through the center
ring and an informal visual examination conducted by those occupying the booths
there. I’ve found that if I hold my
Alabama Driver’s license on my forehead the visual check is a piece of cake. At the counter, which separates the dining
area from the kitchen, you need to turn right to enter ring number two. This ring is used by older people, like me,
and couples, who are relegated to the four booths in the front of ring two. There they receive less efficient service
because of their distance from the kitchen.
However, they are so preoccupied with each other, they don’t usually notice.
Last Saturday I sat in my favorite booth and listened to the
old guys, four at one booth and two at another, talk about: the weather, body
part replacement, and a pickup truck that burned during a hunting trip. The burning truck got more attention than
weather because there were two boxes of ammunition on the hood when the fire
started and that delayed attempts to put out the fire.
Directly across from me, an old woman ignored the guys and
kept her attention totally on the obituary section of Friday’s paper as she ate
her scrambled eggs and grits and sipped coffee from a heavy white mug advertising
the “Hospice of the Shoals – a special kind of caring.” It isn’t accurate to
say the old woman ignored the old men; she was oblivious to them while they
ignored her.
Food is incidental to conversation and entertainment at JJ’s,
however, I should note that it is delicious and grossly underpriced. I had my usual veggie omelet, biscuits, and
coffee, all for $3.25. The waitress, an
attractive, efficient, middle aged woman, is loved by everyone. As I watched her work I thought of a face-up
card in a game of poker. The card
becomes part of everyone’s hand though it doesn’t belong to any particular
player. That’s the way everyone in JJ’s
thinks of the waitress. To the old men she
is a daughter or granddaughter while the younger ones considered her a sister,
girlfriend, or maybe even an imaginary, perfect, wife. By the way, that happens without a hint of impropriety.
As I was eating, I noticed that there was little sound
coming from the center ring, but it’s clear in JJ’s protocol that one must keep
their attention in the ring they occupy, so I didn’t turn around to look. Truth is I just thought that none of the
regulars were present. Finished, I
nodded knowingly to the old men, spoke wordlessly to the old woman, and took my
check to the counter. As I stood in line
to pay I looked over the center ring.
Every booth was occupied by two men.
There were twelve men in the center ring and almost no noise. The reason for the hush was seated at the
center table - an attractive, middle-aged black woman, wearing jeans and white
sweat shirt who was speaking quietly.
Her gray streaked hair gave the appearance of wisdom, and her soft
speech confirmed it. Though I couldn’t
hear what she was saying, her audience could, and they were hanging on every
word. I wanted to sit down and listen,
but every seat was taken and besides, I wasn’t qualified to sit in the center
ring.
I paid and walked down the long hall to the men’s restroom,
turned right at the “do not piss off the porch sign,” and stepped into the
unoccupied tiny toilet. Finished, I
walked back through the center ring.
Nothing had changed – the woman was still talking softly, and the men
were hanging on every word. As I passed
her table, without pausing in her discourse, she looked at me and smiled. In that split second I experienced the charm
and wisdom that held the center ring enthralled.
JJ’s – the original home of social networking – next time
you’re in that part of the world, drop in.
