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November 4, 2007
Where Everybody Knows Your Name...
There is a diner in my little town similar to diners found in most rural towns. It still has the same tables, chairs and booths that it had back in the 60's and some of the waitresses have been around 40 years as well. They are all well worn around the edges, with a few cracks, wrinkles and sagging bottoms. Sound familiar? In Lake Woebegon, Minnesota, it's called the Chatterbox Cafe. I'll bet big cities have a few like this too--perhaps the "Cheers" bar represents the big city equivalent.
This diner is the farmer hang out where all manner of fuel, hay, grain and milk prices are analyzed and reanalyzed, the sports scores hashed over and occasionally a theological discussion may crop up now and again. The past three wars are fought again and these fellows all shake their heads collectively about the problems of the younger generation being so much worse than any previous generation.
The hallmark of any place like this is not the quality of the food, though it is usually pretty good stuff with always quite substantial portions, if you can evaluate that by the size of the bellies around the tables. It is definitely dependent on the quality and price of the coffee. Mostly, it is the communal nature of the gathering of like-minded souls in one place, day after day, comprising a second 'family' of sorts. Everybody knows you and you know everybody else. It is completely and utterly predictable, and thereby, for most people, comforting.
One retired farmer's morning trip to the diner was so routine that his depressed wife planned her suicide attempt during his time in town drinking coffee with the guys. He came home to find her near death, but not quite there, so her calculations thankfully were a bit off. It was never a topic of conversation when he returned to his diner routine a few days later after she was hospitalized in the mental health unit. Some things are just not seemly for a bunch of guys to talk about. But they all knew about it and in their own way, could support him through his rough time.
A generation ago there used to be many more settings of complete lack of anonymity than there are now. The service stations now are self serve, barbers and beauty salons have 15 chairs, instead of 2 or 3, bars and taverns limit the number of drinks they'll serve, the corner grocery stores are a thing of the past, bank tellers don't know their customers by sight, grange halls are boarding up and churches are megacongregations of hundreds to thousands in a service. It is downright easy to stay unidentifiable. This is especially true on internet forums like this one. Who really wants to be known by name anymore? It can seem altogether too risky where identity theft, stalkers and creepos abound.
Even so, I find I'm longing for those simpler days. I wish I didn't feel I have to hide my name in certain places. I really like getting to know one grocery store clerk in particular and choosing that line out of 10 options in order to find out how her kids are doing and where she went on vacation. I'll choose the espresso stand where the barista takes one look at me coming, and knows I want a tall decaf mocha. I love worshipping in my little church congregation where my joys and my worries are easily shared, because the people there know my name and as a result they know me. I'm not anonymous and neither are they.
So where does everybody know your name?