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Between A Rock And A Hard Place

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Published: October 12, 2009

You will recall that the untimely death of short-order cook Mac Mackenzie last month sent the community into a tailspin. The Kingbird Café suddenly closed its doors after 30 years and spilled the farmers of the valley out onto the side roads to shift for themselves.

We were all gathered in the basement of St. Stephen’s-on-the-Drumlin, drinking the Reverend’s chicory coffee and eating soggy pancakes when the holy man of the hills tapped his coffee cup with a spoon and asked for silence.

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“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” he announced. “The Mackenzie boys called from the city this morning to tell me they have sold their father’s property… to a young couple who intend to continue to operate the Kingbird. Isn’t that wonderful?”

It did indeed sound wonderful . Who was this young couple that wanted to take up the torch from Mac’s failing hands and sling hash to the demanding and difficult clientele of Petunia Valley?

“The man’s name is Bak Suk and his wife is Yi Jin,” said the Rev. “I’m not sure if I have the pronunciation right.”

“Foreigners,” said Old Owly Drysdale solemnly. Owly is one of the ancients of the Sideroad, a cattle farmer perched on the highest drumlin in Persephone Township. He was born long before Canada developed a reputation for tolerance. “What will they do to the Kingbird?”

“Now, Mr. Drysdale,” chided the Reverend. “Your great-grandmother was called a foreigner when she fled the Irish Potato Famine and made her way to Upper Canada. You say you feel like a foreigner yourself every time you drive south of Highway 13.”

“That’s right,” said Bob Pargeter, Combine King of the valley. “We’re all immigrants here and some of us still barely speak the language after a century and a half. Personally, I think we’re lucky to get Mr. Suk and his wife. They may be the last two people left in this country who want to get up at 5 a. m. to make you a decent breakfast. No offence, Rev.”

“None taken,” said the minister. “And Suk is actually his first name. Apparently, it means a rock or stone.

It’s the same as our name Peter, which comes from the Latin petrus. You will recall, Saint Peter was the rock on which our Saviour built the church.”

That settled it. Our place of alternative worship would be rebuilt on a rock, too. We flocked into the diner on Monday morning to meet the new couple and give them our encouragement. Imagine our shock and dismay when we found it closed again, this time with a notice on the door saying that until certain equipment upgrades were made, we would be eating Anglican pancakes.

“New business must meet new standards,” explained Suk with a shrug. His wife nodded agreement and smiled. They both looked like teenagers.

“New business?!” roared Owly. “The Kingbird’s been open since that pup of a health inspector was in diapers.”

Suk insisted they still counted themselves lucky to be three weeks away from finally opening their own restaurant in Canada. They have cleared many hurdles and jumped through many hoops since leaving the land of their birth.

Bob Pargeter looked at the list and shook his head in wonderment. “I guess it’s understandable when you think of all the people who died of food poisoning in here over the years.” Then he raised his voice and fairly shouted at the crowd around him. “But of course, nobody did die, did they?” Bob took the list and tore it in half. The crowd cheered. Then he tore it in half again.

“What are you doing?” cried Jin fearfully. “We must obey the law!”

“It’s just a list,” said Bob, patting her hand with his huge paw. “And I’m dividing it up. The beans are off and I’ve got time on my hands. Say, who knows where they can find a new range hood for the stove?”

Wilbur Gans, a school board custodian, raised his hand, saying there was a surplus one at the hospital. Bob handed him the fragment and shouted, “Handwashing sinks?” A plumber’s hand went up. “Ceiling tiles and floor tiles?” Two more hands. “Who’s got washroom stuff? Soap dispensers, air dryers… I don’t want any junk here, is that clear?”

“Don’t worry folks,” said Bob to the mystified couple as the crowd dispersed. “We’ll have you in business before you can say ‘duck hunt.’ Say, do you mind if I call you Peter?”

About The Author

Dan Needles

His Column Is A Monthly Feature In Country Guide

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