Downtown Gas City typically serves as a means to an end for students. We cruise past the storefront windows, not sure what lies inside, too rushed or unimpressed to stop.
You might have seen the "Kay's Pizza" sign, noticeably worn, but more than likely, you gave it no attention on your way to any of Marion's chain franchises. If you stopped to look through the windows below, you'd see people at every table, sipping on coffee, dipping their eggs in gravy and scooping their pizzas into their mouths before the toppings fill their plates.The small diner used to welcome smokers, and the tables were full of people with cigarettes between their fingertips. When the smoking ban hit, all lights were distinguished at the door. The transition caused conflict between the smoking customers, but slowly relationships rebuilt, and the owners, Max and Pam Taylor, didn't notice a loss of income.
Kay's grinds its own all-natural cheese, makes its dough from scratch and mixes its own spices into Redgold puree for a homemade pizza.
Kay's used to be the only pizza place in town, but new ones have popped up like Pizza Hut and TOPPIT. Those places don't serve food like Kay's: Pam will whip up any pie you want-just call ahead. If she doesn't have it then, she will the next day.
Kay's Pizza serves more than its name implies. Men from the town sit down without a menu, describing what they want as a waitress fills their cups with coffee.
"Give me some eggs and bacon with gravy on the eggs," David Smith, a Jonesboro local, huffed from the table in the back.
"That's what we call The Liars' Table over there," Max said. "Everybody stretches the truth. Some of the people that come in, when they start talking, they're lying."
Kevin Barett sat at The Liar's Table with his newspaper and traveling mug, enjoying the morning until work called him in. He's been in construction for a while as a carpenter and general contractor. His team is building a new house in town, while the market is good.
He grew up here but left for Denver, where he married and divorced before returning home for a fresh start.
"I never thought I'd come back," Barett said.
He was wrong. So wrong that he's been back long enough to be engaged to Donna Williams, a local woman, for 17 years.
Glance at Barett for a moment, and his white beard is the first thing you'll notice. If you take the time to listen, he'll tell you about when he crammed a few belongings into a backpack, walked across Europe, and made it all the way to Israel-but you'll have to remember where he's sitting.
Barett started coming to Kay's when he was thirteen, going through a few owners, but he keeps coming back.
"This is a down-home atmosphere," Barett said. "I come in here, I get a good breakfast for the money, read the paper. . . . I'm comfortable here. And, you know, they want me to be pope, and that's the number one reason."
The group laughed at the sign up front reading "Barett for pope." Grant County could really get its name on the map.
They all know each other, stopping to talk, never pouring more coffee without passing a joke and a smile.
"I had probably the greatest breakfast ever made," Barett said, leaning back in his chair.
"Oh my gracious! That just makes me feel so good!" Pam laughed at his compliment.
The housing market sparked conversation which eventually turned to minimum wage. Max turned in his chair to join the discussion. No whining, just a couple of guys discussing issues America's been debating since its creation, issues they've seen their entire lifetimes.
Barett's phone rings, and he gives instructions for until he gets there, using language only construction workers know. Time for work.
Another man, Paul Detamore, sat at a table on the other side of the diner, but he should have been sitting with Barett.
If you join him, he will tell you he holds two BS degrees, as well as a Masters and even a PhD. He will also thoroughly describe his time as a counselor for war veterans, divulging the harrowing details of the men who inhaled anything for a high in order to forget-but you can't believe him.
Instead, he'll call you the next day and tell you he was "embellishing."
He belonged to The Liars' Table, and by not sitting there, he reinforced this all the more.
Detamore wasn't doing anything foreign to his surroundings, neither was Barett. They're all friends at Kay's. They come for the food, sure, but it's the lively discussions, teasing and storytelling that keep them coming back. They thrive on embellishing their own stories and listening to the tall-tales of others.
You wouldn't understand these men from driving by or glancing in Kay's front windows. You have to sit down, sip some coffee, listen and let the laughter roll. Just remember where you're sitting.
