by Melody Scott
Hark, people! We've got a new endangered species. The Country Restaurant will soon be a thing of the past. Another era slipped away, RIP, deceased and gone, right before our eyes.
It's not just the food that makes those places thrive – heck, I've got eggs at home! It's the regulars—you know, the wifeless, the early bird contractors, bankers, the realtor deal makers, the occasional little grandchild tagging along with them, who create an environment of familiarity with the waitresses. They form a camaraderie easing into another day, all in the same boat called "life." It's the trading of gossip, of local stories, jokes, hi jinx and politics. It's the only way I can keep up with who died, who married, who has a new baby, and who's doing what to whom.
It's the place to network, to find a contractor, to check the current prime lending and interest rates and types of loans available.
I'm beginning to feel like I'm on a raft, floating around in a void with no incoming information available. I may have to read the paper – yikes! And still I wouldn't learn nearly as much in the little time spent over my eggs, tomatoes and grits.
I remember Jack's, near the square in Cumming, Billie and Bonnie's following on its heels. There was L&M Cafe on 369 at Shady Grove Road. I remember the Appalachian on 20 south of the square. And I remember Doris and Paulettes on 20 west. Not to mention Ruby Lee's at
Every time another country restaurant shuts down, I want to stand in the middle of the street and scream, "come baaaack!"