Pamela Jean Owens off-line

I’m looking at the people sitting in the McDonalds on Cuming at 24th Street. Black people, brown people, white people, old and young. Teenagers, families, people like me who come in by themselves. Around lunchtime, and morning coffee break time, work crews from the construction constantly going on in the area, or in winter from the snow plow trucks and the like. Some eating quickly, some watching CNN on the television, others leafing through the newspaper kept on the counter for the customers to read.
This McDonalds has more than its share of street people, being located close to the bus station, the Catholic Worker House, and downtown. But it also has Creighton University people, people on the way to work, and a steady crew of retired black gentlemen who know they’ll see a friendly face and people to call them by name. Being near the interstate and on the way to the airport, this McDonalds gets the occasional tourist, especially when it is College World Series time, and sometimes the families of patients at Creighton Medical Center stop in here.

This McDonalds is not a large store. In fact, it may be the smallest McDonalds in town. But it wins the friendliness award, hands down, in my book. I feel comfortable in this sunny window, knowing I’ll be welcomed and recognized.

If I get here early enough, I’ll see Jack, who shakes too much to be driving his truck all the way from much further north, but isn’t going to quit if he doesn’t have to. If I stay long enough, I’ll see Mr. Ramsey, who comes in on crutches and always sits at the same seat at same table. He counts on someone to get his coffee or sweet tea for him, and often times they’ll pay for it as well. He seldom eats anything here, but occasionally he’ll get a hamburger. He knows all the managers and most of the workers, and they all welcome him and welcome his teasing, returning it in good measure. The staff all worry about Mr. Ramsey’s health, and they worry about Jack’s driving, and when they see one of them coming, it’s not a bit unusual for one of the managers to hold the door open and pull out a chair.

I’m looking at a McDonalds, but I’m seeing an old-fashioned corner coffee shop, complete with a corner. I’m counting on it being here for me, and you’re welcome to join me any morning. But be sure you move over when Mr. Ramsey comes in, if you happen to be sitting in his seat.