Few things could compare to lunch at Murray’s back then. I am old enough to remember the Murray’s at Guy and Ste-Catherine Sts., where bunion-footed aging women with stiff, blond bouffant hair-dos and genuine smiles kept your coffee cups filled, calling you dear and darlin’ as they tempted you with the daily special (You want fries, baked or mashed with that?)
Years ago, I went to the last Murray’s still standing which was at Sherbrooke St. and Claremont Ave. It had been a while, although I passed it frequently. New and flashier eateries had cropped up everywhere, making Murray’s appear like the dinosaur that it had become.

I had a wonderful time at the old Murray’s.

Where else could you go with a toddler (my friend’s) and not worry about whether or not the child would sit still and keep quiet long enough for her mother and I to have a meaningful conversation? Every grandma in the place, not to mention the waitresses and cashier, smiled tolerantly as the stroller was wheeled in by my friend and the little one declared in a voice loud enough for all to hear “I want a lollipop.”

Where else but Murray’s could you turn your placemat over, give the kid a crayon and let her rip – literally.

Murray’s wasn’t just for tired moms and kids who hadn’t yet mastered basic social graces. It was also a haven for seniors like few other places could be. It was clean and predictable, friendly, in a hurried kind of way, relatively inexpensive and easy to access.

Most of the customers were female. Some were mothers and daughters, perhaps out for their weekly lunch. These days, I, too, am taking my mother to her doctor’s appointment followed by lunch, and I wish sometimes that a new version of the old Murray’s would exist somewhere.

At the time of my last visit there were couples, some talking, some staring at their plates, having run out of things to say years ago. There were tables for two with elderly friends sharing a meal as they reminisced or compared notes on the latest challenges in their lives: health issues, loss of mates, increases in prescription-drug costs. An adorable toddler drawing rabbits can be a soothing sight during trying times.

I remember one couple in particular. They were in their late 70s, well dressed, sitting by the window. She had had her hair done recently, while he wore a suit and tie.

When the waitress brought two bowls of soup, the gentleman straightened the placemat, handed his wife the spoon as he explained to her very patiently that she should use it to put the soup in her mouth. She looked at him with what I would have to say was profound gratitude as she struggled to get the utensil from the bowl to her mouth. She then picked up a package of crackers, looked at him inquiringly and again was grateful when he said that “Yes,” she could have them. With his help she managed to open the packet and consume one cracker.

It was a touching scene, because of the gentleman’s great dignity in the face of adversity, because of her visible struggle to meet him halfway and because of the fact that the waitress took the time to go back to the table and ask if there was anything else she could do. It wasn’t a big deal, maybe it was even expected of a good waitress. But at Murray’s on that day, with my friend and her toddler, we witnessed a touching gesture not easily found today in high tech fast food courts.

As we left Murray’s, all those years ago, having first picked up some fries off the carpet and purchased a lollipop for the toddler who is now a senior in high school, I looked at my friend and wondered if in years to come we would find ourselves sharing memories over a cup of coffee, hoping to find comfort and diversion as we try to age gracefully.