Moving up here to Duluth I needed to find a haunt that was cheap and easy to get to. I've had a bunch of losses lately due to the real estate debacle and the banks. That's a whole other story though that will get my full attention real soon.
Anyway my haunt. The Lakeside Bakery is perfect. I could sneak downstairs at six a.m. and take my composition book and my trusty Pentel P207 0.7mm mechanical pencil and with a cup of coffee and a danish from Stephanie, an easy to look at girl, I could find myself in another world to write in. I've always liked most of my characters but it is either the place, coffee or sugar that made some of them really come to life for me.
The back alleys Stricland and Scanlon chased the bad guys in seemed more real to me. The bad guys like "The Leprechaun" became more robust in nature and then of course there is John.
What a wonderful man and along with all of the other old codgers I fit in pretty good. I sit apart from them to write but John wanders over every once in a while when a tale that he thinks is worthy of telling comes to him. Every one of them have been more than worthy. After his tale he'll head back over to the table usually taking the last chair of six. Different men come and go as the morning wears on but there's usually three for sure, Bob, Jerry and John.
Friendly, the kind of place I can feel at home. I hear them talking about the news, politics and the schools. Each searching for the others approval but set strong in their ideas of even how they should cap the oil spill in the gulf that's ruining a piece of the world that they love and honor.
I'm proud to even be in their presence. And besides, there's a book inside John. Don't know exactly what it is yet but I feel a nonfiction historical novel coming on one day soon.
More about the guys later.