Maggie's Diner

As the dust began to clear from my car pulling into the dirt and rock covered parking lot, a vision of history starred me back in the face. I parked my car and just sat, my eyes fixated on the white colored brick building ahead of me. I let my eyes wander between the barber shop and Maggie’s Diner, only to imagine of what was on the inside. It reminded me of a place in my hometown that had been standing since the revolutionary war. It was called Southport center, a row of brick buildings such as the post office, an insurance agency, a small market, and a boutique. Still today those places stand and the exteriors have not changed. It reminds me of a mirror image of what I see in Maggie’s. I wait for moments to gaze around me to try and take in the environment. The scenery looks like it is right out of a scene from the movie “October Sky”. A factory and coal mining town, that was close knit and worked together to create a life for one another. Looking at Maggie’s I knew that there was more character in that one building than I could ever imagine.

I got out of my car and walked across the street, I stopped in front of the building to read the signs on the outside and I found myself hesitating to go in. I don’t know what it was about me but part of me was nervous. I thought in my head of what my mother always said to me “never judge a book by its cover”. I didn’t want to judge Maggie’s by the appearance on the outside but I can’t lie and say that I didn’t.

As I opened the door it creaked as though it had not been greased in a while, I let it shut slowly behind me and turned my head around to amazement. There were so many things to look at and the smells overwhelmed my nose. As I walked forward my mind concentrated on the immense amount of pie that was individually sliced before my eyes. The cookies that sat neatly in row right next to it grabbed my attention as I so badly wanted to grab one. I gazed up at the menu when suddenly I had a flash back to my childhood. I vividly remember the dry cleaners, it was called Connie’s. My mother used to take me there when I was a child and while she chatted for hours with the three old African American women I would wander in between the nicely altered dresses and climb the alteration stairs. The carpet that was worn in and fraying at the edges and would hold my balance while I would try on all of high heels as I would model them for all of the women. All of them chuckling as I would stumble my way across the floor.  My memories from that store were ones that warmed my heart, it was somewhere that I always felt like I was at home, and I began to feel that way at Maggie’s. Abruptly my thoughts were interrupted by the women behind the counter saying “honey, you ready to order”? I starred at all of the food that was in the steam plates and wondered what everything was. Trying to think quickly on my feet I said “may I please have one of the pancakes”. She replied “honey, that’s corn bread, do you still want one”? My cheeks started to turn red of embarrassment and I instantly replied “yes please”! Both of the women behind the counter clearly got much amusement out of my ignorant request, and when they started laughing I could tell that they knew I was not from around here. Being a girl from the North, my experience with Southern food is slim to none. I had never tried grits, or ever eaten much fried chicken. Nor did I have any idea what “soul  food” was. I was clearly extremely naïve to any thought of Southern food. As Ms. Maggie explained to me what all the different types of food were behind the counter I felt more comfortable, I felt like I could ask question and maybe try to learn more about the culture. My plate filled with all different kinds of food that I had never heard of before I was ready to experience it all.

Sitting in Maggie’s dining room I was too busy to even eat because I was looking at all of the different things that made up the room. The wall paper looked old but almost vintage in a sense and it allowed the art work to hang perfectly on top. All of the different paintings covered the wall and gave your eyes something to look at. All of them completely different in look, size, and color there was nothing that looked like it was a duplicate. Everything looked like it was original. This gave the atmosphere a homey and warm feel to it. Even looking at the window unit air conditioner I felt as though this was some place I could call home.

When I finally got to eating my food, I first off tried to corn bread pancake and I had never tasted something so good. The moist feel of the bread hitting my tongue and the sweet after taste was nothing I had ever tasted before. With that and the mix or creamy macaroni and cheese my hunger was instantly filled with greatness. Trying the chicken stuffing my taste buds became nervous but once it hit my mouth I realized that I had nothing to be afraid of.  The mix of spices and the textures reminded me of a thanksgiving meal at home. At that moment I understood why they called this kind of food “soul food”.

Not only did I feel like I was somewhere that I could be myself and ask silly questions, but I felt a warm feeling in my heart not just from the hot mac and cheese flowing down my throat but from the hospitality I felt at Maggie’s. Being so far from home this was a place that I felt comfortable in. If I could I would sit for hours in Maggie’s and just stare at my surroundings trying to soak up some of the history that I knew grew in the walls. Maggie’s is not just a place where you can order good Southern cooking; it is full of experiences and love that I have never felt in any other place.