Taking A Walk

by Dwayne Phillips

It was mid-morning and I was walking through Livingston, Alabama. It was the time of day  that if I sought a diner or cafe that I would drop in for coffee and something to eat like pie or cake. I didn’t see any such diners or cafes, but off to the right a block away I saw a bakery. I couldn’t read the sign; no matter, I was going.

Inside the bakery, a group of Mennonite women were moving about busily. I ordered a cup of coffee at the counter and then started looking about for something to eat. They had a glass display case with cinnamon rolls. These were L A R G E cinnamon rolls. I ordered one, paid, and sat to eat.

The cinnamon roll was great. They had baked it that morning. It was, well how do you describe a fresh-baked cinnamon roll? It melted in my mouth. I thought about having a second one, but my conscience prevented me. I sat to let the cinnamon roll go down, sipped my coffee, and relaxed as I had walked about eight miles already that morning.

There were six or eight Mennonite women working that day. I guessed their ages from 18 to 80. Yes, up to 80. I am pretty sure the youngest women were at least 18 as it was a weekday, and those younger than 18 would be in high school at that time of day.

A dozen people came into the bakery behind me. They were eating late breakfasts of eggs, sausage, gravy, biscuits, and everything else you could eat for breakfast. Great stuff. I had second thoughts about staying and eat a second breakfast.

Some of the other customers were buying loaves of bread. I walked over to the shelves where the loaves were sitting. They had big, fresh loaves of sourdough bread. I picked up one and asked if the ladies could slice it. They could. I bought the loaf and had them run it through their bread slicer. I eagerly ate sandwiches made from that loaf until it was consumed in four or five days. Much better than anything at a regular grocery store.

I sat again to admire my loaf of bread, eat one slice of it, and finish my coffee. Several of the younger women were on their morning break. They sat in booths next to the windows, leaned back against the windows, and stretched their legs out in front of them. Nikes and Reeboks adorned their feet stretching out from under their traditional long dresses. They grinned, sighed, chatted, and flipped through the small-town newspapers that adorn small-town bakeries.

They were the same age as my youngest son. He grew up in the country club known as the Northern Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C. He was in class at George Mason University at the same moment that these girls were taking a break from baking cinnamon rolls and sourdough bread. They were so different, but they were the same. Young Americans trying to find their way in a culture inherited from their parents.

After a few minutes their break ended. They started moving about quickly preparing the lunch special for the day. It took me a little while, but I finally figured that the special for the day was of all things, Taco Salad.

Only in America: small town west Alabama, Mennonite girls, fresh-baked cinnamon rolls and bread, and Taco Salad.

If you are ever in this part of Alabama, pull off the Interstate and drive through Livingston. It is a fine, small-college town. Just off Route 11 downtown you can find Mennonite’s Touch of Home Bakery. The coffee is good, the cinnamon rolls great, the sourdough bread just as good as the cinnamon rolls, and the ladies wonderful.