All across this great big nation of ours, there are little diners and cafes where locals congregate. There is a special group of these people that like to congregate before the sun comes up most days. If they had a set of keys to the diner, they would probably start making the coffee before the waitress and the cook showed up. This breakfast club, or liars lounge, of individuals meet faithfully everyday for their coffee. Seldom do they need a menu, because the waitress knows their usual order by heart. Cup after cup of steaming hot coffee is poured, and with every cup the bull gets a little deeper.

                  The conversation circles around the current events of the country, our nation, and what the ag markets are doing. If there was a storm the night before, the greatest lie of all in the ag world is told. “How much rain did you get?” Someone will say they got just enough to settle the dust; another will say they had a couple of tenths. The guy who keeps a record of his yearly precipitation proudly tells how much he got down to the hundredths, while his neighbor across the table smirks because he put an extra four tenths in his neighbor’s gauge with his water jug before it got checked this morning. The breakfast group shares stories of crops they raised, or of calves they sold. No matter how good they did, they all should have sold the week before when the market was higher.

                  It’s a wonder that the waitress doesn’t wear rubber overshoes, the bull is deep around this table of patrons. There’s friendly jabs, deep conversation, lots of coffee and a few strips of bacon. You can set your watch by the breakfast club. Each member arrives at the same time, parking in the same spot and sitting in the same chair each morning. A missing member is cause for concern; his phone will start ringing until his friends know the reason for his absence. The club isn’t really big, usually six or eight members, they don’t have officers, t-shirts or leaders. They don’t schedule their meetings, but the attendance is fairly regular, they could solve all the world’s problems if only their meetings were a little longer.

                  The breakfast club has no age requirement, though most of the members are on the back side of 50. They question the younger crowd that comes in 30 minutes after they do why they got out of bed so late, but most of the breakfast club will be found later today having a mid afternoon nap in the pickup next to the pasture gate. The meeting of minds only lasts about an hour, once they’ve had their breakfast and their share of café coffee they’ll go off in their separate directions to feed cows or check on their fields, but rest assured they’ll be back tomorrow with new stories and more lies to swap with one another.

                  They pick on their waitress every morning, but are always sure to tip. She’ll get the last laugh come April Fools, she’ll switch them all to decaf and see who can stay awake the longest. That’s all for this time. Be sure to say hello to the breakfast club when you go to the little café and keep tabs on your side of the barbed wire. God bless!

Meinzer is a fourth-generation rancher raised on the southeastern plains of Colorado. He and his family live and ranch in Oshkosh, Neb.