CREDOS:Goldmine — I

It’s my hideaway. You’ve heard me mention it before. My favourite restaurant for a good old clog-your-heart breakfast of eggs, home fries, and bacon. Oh, yes. Whole wheat toast

to make it healthy. I find the most incredible people and stories in restaurants. Think about it. It’s your family dinner table removed from your kitchen and placed in a public area. Like home, but better. Somebody else is cooking and doing the dishes.

Scattered all around me were the usual crowd-families having dinner, friends catching up with the latest news, business people making deals, all in animated conversation. Except in the booth across from me. Silence.

When I first sat down, two men were sitting together quietly. One appeared to be in his thirties. He was dressed in some old work clothes and still wearing his baseball cap. The other man was, I would guess, about 80. He had the most incredible face. The lines and creases gave him character. His white hair was messy from wearing a stocking cap he held on top of the table. He wore one of those red plaid shirt jackets that you might see on a construction worker. Heavy enough to keep you warm but not too bulky to limit your movement.

But he didn’t look like he was going any where. Neither was this conversation. “Boy, I really worked up a hunger today, Pop. All that shovelling and sweeping the snow will do that,” the younger man said. “Yeah, this is somethin’,” replied the old man. —