Have you ever wandered into a place and been suddenly transported backward in time? Well, I just did.
Last fall, our little Lilburn News ran an article about the Old Tucker Fountain. It mentioned Sunday brunch with live jazz and Sunday evenings with barbecue and bluegrass.
A couple of weeks ago, I finally dragged Carl over there for brunch. It was so small and nondescript that we missed it the first time around. When we opened the door, we were suddenly transported back to West Virginia sometime in the 1950s. Patsy Cline was on the jukebox; there were two tiny booths in the front window, a counter along the left side, a row of chrome dinette sets down the middle, and a small stage at the end.
We were there at 11:00 a.m. but, as it turns out, no one comes that early. Nothing was ready except the coffee. The food was so-so when it finally arrived, the jazz musicians finally wandered in, and they were good. We promised J.R. we'd go back for their barbecue and bluegrass after he said he cooks the barbecue for 12 hours, adding a log to the fire every hour. We kept our promise last Sunday evening, taking Scott and Greg along.
When we hesitated at the door, one of the patrons called out, "Come on in and find a seat; once you're in, you're in!" Another reached over and introduced himself to Carl with a handshake when we sat down. This is not the kind of welcome one usually finds in restaurants anywhere near Atlanta, Georgia, to say the least. Suddenly we had gone back home.
The bluegrass band was playing and they were great! Songs like Old Joe Clark, I Saw the Light, and Wildwood Flower took me right back to my childhood in Leon where I could hear my dad and grandpa playing the same songs on their harmonicas and singing while they worked.
A large black man with dreadlocks wandered in with his trumpet, stood against the wall, and began playing along. The band gave him the lead and he got a big hand as he wandered back out after a song or two while one of the band members exclaimed, "That may be a first, folks - bluegrass with a trumpet!"
As it turns out, the band plays for an hour and then anyone can take the stage. There was no shortage of musicians. They took up right where the band left off - in fact some of the band members stayed and played on. These people play simply for the love of music and it shows. Singing along was encouraged.....and I did, loudly, much to Greg's surprise, I think. After all, I knew the words and I can carry a tune. There's no way I was going to miss an opportunity like this!
I can't wait to go back and take some of our friends - especially Carl's newly found cousin whose roots are in West Virginia but who has never lived there. She's gonna' love it!
It was almost heaven. West Virginians will understand this.
