I’d love to do a photo show of Fate At Rest and the Big Men At The Stool at Jean’s diner. Neither of these things will ever happen, but it stirs the creative juices.

Most Sundays, Maria and I can be found at Jean’s diner, one of the most atmospheric and photogenic places I’ve been. It is pure Americana.

Every week, I am in awe of the giant men – farmers all – who come to the diner to rest, see friends, or yak with the waitresses, as much social workers as restaurant workers. Sometimes the stools are full; sometimes, only one is taken.

The families sit at tables, and the farmers needing lunch or a rest take a single stool. Sometimes they talk with one another, sometimes they say hello or want some peace and quiet.

I can’t believe how big these farmers are; they all tower over me and dwarf me, and I am a little over six feet.

Jean’s has the best breakfast of any restaurant or diner we know up here. These men humble me; they make me feel like a dwarf. Jean’s is an ageless icon, a place that has stood still in time but retained it’s atmosphere and soul.