This was an observation of a small café written in 1984. The café is still there today.
The café is on the main highway that goes through the small town sitting in a valley surrounded by Texas hills.
There are few parking spaces at the curb along the street. All are filled with local cars. We park around the corner and walk back to the entrance. The tan brick front has symmetrical windows on either side of the glass door. There are tan awnings over the windows to keep out the afternoon sun.
The south wall is covered by the usual drink station equipment and dessert cases. A long serving counter runs the length of the room. The stools are low and plump, the kind children love to sit on and twirl around. The opposite side is lined with booths. In the center are tables. The floor is dull from repeated mopping.
It is nearing noon and the place is filling with the lunch crowd. We choose a table and order the blue plate lunch special and iced tea. The food is plain and tasty: There is a generous slice of roast beef with brown gravy, pinto beans, buttered rice and a salad of chopped lettuce and tomatoes. There is apple cobbler for dessert. We get all of this for $3.95.
The waitress is a portly, black-haired lady with a slight coarse mustache on her upper lip. Her large hands have clean nails trimmed short. Her hands reflect hard work. Her wedding ring looks worn and is too tight. I feel that I am looking at a mother working hard to keep a large family well cared for.
The man in the front booth has come in from a local ranch. He has broad shoulders and sits tall. He is wearing dusty jeans and a denim shirt. His boots are weathered and dirty. Under the layers of pasture dust and cow lot manure, there is no hint of what color they might once have been… His black hat has a wide brim and a broad crown. The brim is turned up on the sides. Dust has settled in the dip of the crown and along the brim. The light reflecting on it gives it a brown cast. The color gets darker and grimier where the brim and crown meet. This is no urban cowboy but a genuine cow puncher or goat roper. He sits with a stoic look on his face as he waits.
I regret leaving when we finish our meal. The people watching here is as good as it gets.