When you’re staying at the Salvation Army Lodge in Shawnee, Oklahoma, you’re required to do a couple of things in order to retain your welcome:
1. Get up on time.
2. Do your morning chore.
3. Get out on time.
4. Be back before 9:00pm for devotion.
5. Take a shower.
On Sunday, you go for a breakfast with the church folks and then attend Sunday school and the praise and worship service.
Two nights every week, you have required electives: Monday is Anger Management group and Friday is their 12-Step program, Recovery in Grace.
This recovery program is run by Tony and Mac.
Anyway, like most 12-Step programs, this one is led by guys who are in recovery. Tony is on like his 31st year.
As you might guess, this 12-Step program is firmly seated with Christ and they like to help people realize that faith in Christ can help you get out of the cycle of addiction.
A few of the men in the shelter thought it was a little heavy on testimony, but I don’t blame Tony and Mac at all. They are sharing what saved them because they know what saved them can save someone else — it’s common sense. I’m not saying there aren’t other ways to stop the cycle, I’m just saying this program worked for Tony and Mac, and I think it’s fine that they tell other people about it. Come on, it is the Salvation Army. They don’t force you to believe, but if you’re staying there, I think it’s polite to listen.
Anyway, Tony was always referring to the “Liar’s Club,” in the context of something like, “well, if you like to ignore your problems, then perhaps I’ll see you down at the Liar’s Club.”
I thought it was a place he made up, sort of an ironic name for a bar, for use in his lectures.
No, there’s an actual place.
One Saturday morning I was on a little day church mission with Terry, my coworker. We drove past the Liar’s Club at 11am or so and there were cars. I thought that was strange.
I spent this morning looking for adventure… and I had two before 10am.
Here is one of the adventures: Sunny Side Up.
Then I drove past the Liar’s Club and saw there were cars.
Being me, I stopped to go have a look at who might be in a bar at 10am.
I decided to put this story on the blog first while it was fresh in my noggin. I’ll get to the early morning adventures later.
I walk in, and it’s a BAR. There are pictures of half naked ladies on the swinging doors between the back room and the bar’s center. The bar itself is laminated with red Formica and is trimmed with a 1×4 wood rail, painted black.
They have an actual shuffleboard table. They have all sorts of funny signs, a jukebox, a punching game, a pool table, some tables where you may sit and imbibe, etc.
Inside were three people I’ve never seen around town.
There was Roger, the barkeep, who is a nice guy with plenty of tattoos, long hair and beard. He could use some replacement teeth. He was mopping up.
At the corner of the bar was Elane, a 50-something grandma with long, once blonde hair, now a little gray.
Two stools down from her was Dennis, a 60-something guy with pretty thin hair, wearing a short sleeve, blue pin-striped dress shirt unbuttoned to the top of his belly. Dennis is a man of means, wearing actually quite attractive rings, gold with diamonds in straight lines, and a gold watch. None of the jewelry had shine to it. They have seen some miles.
I was looking at all the $1 bills taped to the ceiling. Each one had writing on them. Dennis said I was probably wondering about those. He told me the bar collects money for St. Jude’s Hospital. I tried to ask why these were left behind, taped to the ceiling, but he either didn’t hear me, didn’t know, or ignored the question.
You should know that I asked Roger for permission to take pictures of the dollars and the interior of the bar. He said he couldn’t give me permission, that I would have to ask the owner and she was out.
Anyway, everyone was very nice.
I ordered a Bud Light. Yes, at 10am, in Rome, you order a beer, you pussy. And, look at me, I haven’t been struck down by lightning.
Elane was missing her grandkids. Her daughter moved out to Arizona and she doesn’t get to see them much at all now. She has a way of mumbling the ends of her sentences, so I didn’t get every word, but I think I understood most of it.
Elane’s son was in the Air Force for 4 years and is now some sort of computer guy.
Dennis’ son too is a computer guy, a programmer, somewhere out west.
Dennis was in the oil business. Although I had to help him zero in on the time frame, he told me a story about when he saw Boy George and his band on a plane from Tripoli to Malta. He said they were nice, but they had these mo-hawk like hair dos with all their hairs sticking straight up like the comb of a Roman officer’s helmet. In Malta, they wouldn’t let him enter the country, so he had to turn around and board the next plane off the island.
They asked me where I was from and I told them I was from Tulsa. Then I told them the little story of how I came to Shawnee. And then I complained about the heat and let them know that Vivian saw snow for the first time in her life this past winter in Shawnee. So we talked a little about China. And then Elane told me that her son was on Okinawa and that he would send China plates, but her granddaughter always wanted Japanese dolls.
You may be wondering, Joe? You always call me Joe. Joe? Why would you hang out with a set of sinners who are sitting in a bar at 10am on a Saturday morning and watch an episode of Ice Road Truckers?
Well, (a) I don’t have television, and (b) I love to hang out with all kinds of people. There’s always something to learn and always something to teach.
Folks, these are not bad people, they’re nice people. I suspect they’re hurting people. Maybe they are, and maybe they aren’t. I don’t know why they’re sitting there drinking beer in the morning.
Elane and Dennis are adults. I hope they’re not driving.
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