Coffee Row

I have a minor medical problem, a hernia, that will need some minor surgery.  After I was referred to the surgeon, I eventually was able to have the consultation appointment. We talked about the procedure and, of course, I was able to suggest ways to improve the cutting and slicing because I asked Mr. Google for information. He knows everything.

The surgeon took that advice in stride but he seemed surprised when I asked him point blank why he was the best man for the job, like he was a plumber or electrician. He smiled and replied, “I am the only hernia surgeon in our area, but maybe if you ask about me down at 'Coffee Row' you might be more at ease about my abilities.” I must have looked puzzled because he said, “Go down to Jim Norton’s any weekday morning and just listen.” Then I got it!

“Coffee Row” is that two or three tables of old retired guys that meets for a daily coffee, maybe a pastry or donut. They are definitely there for conversation about current and past events. They also solve all the daily problems of the world and do so voluntarily. I do not hang out at Jimmies much, but I knew exactly what my doctor was saying, and he was sure that the scuttlebutt on his abilities from the scuttlebutters would be the scuttlebuttiest. After thinking about it, I began to feel better about his confidence, but that never stopped me from trying to get the lowdown from the horse’s mouth. So, I tried to crash one of the daily meetings at Jim Norton’s coffee row on my next trip to town.

It was not rocket science to figure out which table at Jim Norton’s was the one that would produce the results I was after. There were only four gentlemen in my age range (60-80) that were discussing anything. Their discussion was about whether or not Ken Linsmen (Philadelphia Flyers) or Brad Marchand (Boston Bruins) was the best/worst pest to play in the NHL. Cool, a topic I could actually relate to, so I sat at the next table to the chatty foursome and waited for a chance to comment and hopefully be included in the conversation.

It wasn’t long before there was a lull in the banter so I offered an opinion that was logical and would stimulate further discussion. I said, “Brad Marchand is the best pest because of the strictness of today’s rules and their enforcement…”, and baited the verbal hook with a dramatic pause that was disagreed with immediately by “Vic,” who responded that, “Kenny Linsmen didn’t need to hide behind the rules to be the better pest.” I knew I was in like Flynn.

It wasn’t long before there was another pause in the discussion so I skillfully diverted the conversation from hockey to another one of my favorite topics…me.

“Hey, fellas my old hernia has been acting up lately… what should I do?” I got an immediate quizzing on the details of my discomfort and then I got five or six opinions from the four scuttlebutters. Fortunately, they all began to discuss their own hernia experiences (yawn).  Again, I knew these were the right locals. Before long my doctor’s name was mentioned with superlatives that did comfort me in my only choice of a local doctor. 

I began to feel a bit relieved at how four out of four old guys at the coffee row table has had hernia surgery.  After shaking their leathery and calloused working man’s hands when I left the group, I knew they had each earned their respective hernia experience…probably by working hard and splitting their guts. Now we can have coffees and talk about it.