Almost every morning — when there’s not a pandemic — there is a group of old uncivilized folks who meet at the Athens Jack’s restaurant for breakfast. Now considered too old to cut the mustard, one might say we have been turned out to pasture in our not-so-golden years.

Our group has a few requests for the head man at this Jack’s joint. We would like to have a section suited for us old folks — one for the women who like to be amongst themselves and talk that henhouse jibber-jabber trash; and one for the old men who like to talk about the pretty girls they would like to have dated.

Our request includes recliners or lounge chairs for us to relax in. We might need one hospital bed just in case someone becomes overwhelmed with excitement and needs to lie down for a spell. One of the waitresses needs to be a licensed practical nurse, in case of emergency.

We don’t want to stand in line to place our orders. We want a waitress to come to our section, take our orders and serve them to us with a smile. We will pay for the extra service when we leave. It is necessary to understand that some of us have dementia and the others have old-timer’s, but our minds are as sharp as tacks.

We also need some items added to the menu. We wish to have oats and other soft foods. We have teeth problems; they are simply falling out. It might be nice if some Boost or Ensure was stocked, because we might need an energy aid to get to our cars after breakfast.

Some of us were supposed to finish high school in 1951. We received our high school diplomas in 2015. It only took us 64 years to get through our senior year. Now, that doesn’t make us dummies; we are merely slow learners.

One of us old fogies goes to Egypt or another of those countries where the men wear their nightgowns all day. He is a concrete man. Perhaps that makes him hard-headed. I believe he plugs some of his oil well holes with concrete. He thinks there may not be any oil wells in heaven, so he is hanging onto his, just in case.

Names won’t be revealed in this little story because the law may be on the lookout for some of these old codgers. Some may have loafed on the sidewalks in Athens. Some may have swiped chickens from someone’s barnyard to make chicken stew for their girlfriends. Some just goof off and spit their tobacco juice on the sidewalks.

The old folks sitting around Jack’s breakfast table have solved most of our country’s problems while the politicians in Washington just keep on making more. If they ever solved one, it was at least 50 years back. Please remember when the next election rolls around that we have never taken a penny of the taxpayers’ money. For all our good work, they call us the Clean-up Detail because we clean up what the government screws up. We have the broom and will travel.

Going to Jack’s for breakfast is about like going to the county fair. You never know what you’re going to hear or who you’re going to see. The fair workers were after our cotton-picking money, and Jack’s is after our fixed-income money. It is hard for old folks to get by in this high-tech world. The only computerized machinery I worked was a cotton sack and a hoe. I used my hoe handle to text with. The only problem was the grass never texted back.

— Dale Lone Elk Casteel lives in the Coxey community, attended Clements High School and was preparing for his senior year when mobilized into active service in the Army in August 1950. When his class graduated, he was in Korea. He wrote his first story and book at age 70.