A Day at the Diner
I had an appointment for lunch at a local, old-fashioned diner. By the time I arrived, my lunch appointment had eaten and left. As I was already there, and it was lunch time, I decided that this would be as good a place as any to eat a quick lunch. Besides, I had always wanted to eat at an honest-to-goodness diner. I took a stool at the counter and began to examine the menu. I should eat something for which diners are usually famous, I reasoned; meatloaf and mashed potatoes would be a good choice. Sure enough, the meatloaf was right under the salisbury steak on the menu. Then, something else on the menu caught my eye — a Texas Burger. I will wait to eat meatloaf and mashed potatoes another time. Today I feel like a Texas Burger! A nice waitress came over with her palm-sized pad. She pulled a stub of a pencil from behind her ear. Between chews on her gum, she asked, “What can I get ya?”
“I thought about having meatloaf and mashed potatoes, since this is an old-fashioned diner,” I said, “but I think I’ll have the Texas Burger instead.” She smiled.
“THAT’S ONE TEX BURGER,” she yelled at the man with tattoos covering both of his arms who was standing at the grill in a Grateful Dead T-shirt.
As I waited for my Texas Burger, I watched the nice waitress wipe down the milk machine with a rag. I glanced around the diner. The mint green paint was chipping from the ceiling. A chalkboard that hung above the coffee maker read, “Today’s Specials.” Nothing was written below. An older gentleman had come in and had sat down beside me. He looked straight ahead.
“Hi, Bill,” the nice waitress said as she plunked a cup of coffee and a doughnut on the counter in front of him.
“It sure feels like snow out there,” Bill said as he removed his overcoat.
I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me, so I smiled and nodded my head just in case.
I could hear the voice of another gentleman at the other end of the counter saying to his buddy on the next stool, but as if he were sitting across the room, “Remember when we could get the works for fifty-cents?” His friend fixed his gaze at his coffee cup and nodded. The man in the Grateful Dead T-shirt came out once and poured coffee for those seated at the counter.
“How’s Gloria?” he asked the old gentleman at the end of the counter.
“She’s as beautiful as ever,” he replied. I was not sure if he was talking about his wife or his car.
My Texas Burger finally arrived. I lifted the top bun in anticipation. What made this hamburger special? There was a shriveled and greasy hamburger patty with a wedge of tomato and a piece of wilted lettuce. The nice waitress placed a bottle of ketchup firmly on the counter and disappeared. So this is what a Texas Burger is, I thought as I smiled to myself. I had been fooled by the catchy title.
The world in which we live is filled with catchy slogans and fancy names for very ordinary things. Gourmet coffee used to be called coffee. Super Stop-and-Shops used to be called grocery stores. Hair stylists used to be barbers. Even this old-fashioned diner with its quaint surroundings has succumbed to the pressure by calling a hamburger with tomato and lettuce something else. The Church of Jesus Christ faces the same pressure to attach catchy slogans to ordinary events. We can join the crowd and perpetuate a myth, or we can offer the same basic message of the Gospel that has been the mark of the church for nearly two-thousand years. The next time I go to the diner, I think I’ll order the meatloaf.