The old tavern has changed since it was built some time ago. I have always wondered if the shine on the pine walls was from Man'O'War clear spar or Bailey's Real Tried Lard. The smoke in the air is more often a puff back from the Round Oak in the corner than from the line of stoagies at the bar. The bar tender hasn't changed either in so many years. "I'll have a cup of coffee Henry, and a shot of iron back." I never worry that Henry will have candy coffee ot Hazelnut. Just the black kind from the red can.
The same guys come and leave at the same time as jobs end for the day or are about to begin as the case may be. The farmers pull up in a harvester when the season is on and someone is alway grilling something outside at the gas grill that is chained to a locust tree year round. Checkers, poker, and darts are the only games ever played and they don't cost a dime unless you are foolish enough to bet against the house hardies. There is a space in the back where an old guitar leans in a corner. Its unknown lineage is unimportant because the strings are new and the action is good. Anyone is welcome to play and it doesn't matter what you play as long as its music. There's a couch that is old but solid. A haven for the cat and the birthing place for her kittens about twice a year. I'm the guy with the coffee and Iron at the back corner. Stop back and say hello.