A Grace Walks Into a Bar

January 11, 2026

With gratitude to George Vukelich

Reading my mid-January journal entries from previous years has yielded a pattern. As the new year turns away from “New Year’s” and into the longest winter month, I seem to be perpetually frustrated with myself for staying home. Seasonal depression is enough to tangle with on its own, but for me there is this added layer of concern about what I might be missing by not going out.

Still, I don’t force myself to leave when I don’t feel like it. Better to try and gently balance these competing needs. If my opinion is 50/50 for leaving or staying in, I can tip the scale enough to venture out and be social. I don’t need to be out all night to give my tired mind a break; a few hours will do. 

Thus I found myself at a bar at 6 PM on a Friday in January. For most of that evening, there would be only four or five customers present at a given time. I had brought my laptop, allowing myself the choice between hiding behind a device or at least keeping one ear on the conversation. I opted for a bit of both.

The talk was the usual fare: funny moments, observations from life in our small town, tales of dubious veracity that skewed heavily towards road trips. No one held forth; the talk was shared, and even I contributed once or twice. Nothing was said that couldn’t be repeated or that was just meant to show off (beyond the usual “I lived to tell the tale” bravado).

It wasn’t small talk, either. Although I didn’t know much about this group of neighbors to begin with, I came to feel I knew them through these humorous windows onto their lives.

This is no surprise to anyone who has ever been to a bar. But for uninitiated me, it was impressive to watch the random gathering of patrons morph into a united front and be curious about what one another had to say. A couple of hours in, I was grinning just at the prospect of more stories yet to come. When a new bunch of customers finally did arrive, I had to resist the urge to glare at them for their faux pas of not being in the original group.

This visit to the bar wasn’t a social experiment or any noble intention on my part. It started with the decision to sit somewhere besides my house, and it turned into a reminder of the sheer power of conversation. Thank goodness I peeked over my laptop to check on my fellow human beings.

Will I follow the same pattern every Friday from now on? No, but it’s an option. I know the stories will be waiting.