Faith+Values: Breakfast Club

Enter the Baker's Square in Richfield any Tuesday morning and follow the laughter. It will lead you past the display of pies, around the cash register and down the length of the restaurant to a back room, where a group of boisterous senior citizens -- "We've been asked to tone it down a couple of times," they announce with more pride than embarrassment -- are enjoying one another's company, as they have every Tuesday morning for 40 years.

It's all about laughter and love, the driving forces behind the Slovak Cultural and Language Society, a playful name for a group of longtime friends who launched a support group long before such things were trendy. Over the decades, their numbers have dropped from 30 to nine, and they've outlasted a half-dozen restaurants, but the surviving members never miss one of their breakfast get-togethers.

"We come every Tuesday, no matter what," said Ruth Pafko, who attends with her husband, Ed.

Most attendees belong to Holy Emmanuel Lutheran Church in Bloomington, although there is an interloper in the group, Donovan Johnson, a Roman Catholic who takes great delight in poking fun at his compatriots. But this is one place where the meek have no chance of inheriting the Earth. To hold your own here, you have to be able to take it as well as you give it.

"Mel has a wooden leg," Ruth Pafko said, gesturing to Mel Stanko at the end of the table, who lost part of his right leg because of diabetes. "Boy, can he kick you in the butt with that!"

Sound harsh? Not in this context. These people have been there for one another through marriages and divorces, births and deaths. Every person at the table knows that if they ever need help, every other person would be at their service in a heartbeat.

"We lean on each other," said Stanko, whose late brother, John, launched the group.

Ruth Pafko seconded that. "I don't drive, and when Ed had heart surgery, there was always someone asking, 'Can I drive Ed to the doctor? Can I take you to church?' This is so important to us. This is our church family. You have your regular family, of course, but the church family is so important in our lives."

Early birds

The group gathers at 7:30 a.m., a throwback to the days when they had jobs to get to. It's seems like an early meeting time for retirees -- until you talk to them about the rest of their schedules.

Their ages run from 75 (Johnson, the "kid in the group") to 83 (Ed Pafko). But those numbers don't mean much. These folks are 80 going on 40, the kind of people who can say, "I'm taking an old guy to lunch today" and not mean it as a joke. In fact, it never even registered with the group that it might be marginally humorous, mainly because they're all busy helping other people, too.

"We all volunteer," said Ruth Pafko, who spends four days a week helping with lunch at a senior citizens center.

"We have our aches and pains, but we're in pretty good shape," said Dan Peterson, who was with his wife, Helen. Mel Michalik added that they consider being old to be as much a mental as a physical condition. "There are people pushing it at 50," he said.

Besides, even though they might not be as quick on their feet as they once were, their wits remain as nimble as ever. No sooner had Stanko announced that he was baby-sitting that afternoon than the retort shot across the table, "Make sure she's 21."

Common backgrounds

Their Slovak heritage is the bond that brought them together. Holy Emmanuel was in a Slovak neighborhood in Minneapolis before it moved to Bloomington. And even beyond that, it's a small world.

"We discovered that my grandfather owned the farm right next to the Pafko farm," Michalik said. Johnson quickly chimed in: "It's all pretty incestuous."

But also extremely supportive. "The Slovak race is one of the most loving races in the world," Stanko said. "There are always a lot of hugs and kisses. We show our love for one another. That's why we stick together."

Their religious heritage is also a tie.

"Prayer is very important to Slovaks," Stanko continued. "Children are taught to pray as soon as they are able to talk. And they start Bible study classes as soon as they start school."

Asked what they talk about every week, they answer that it's harder to find something they don't talk about. The topics include everything from their kids and grandkids to the weather and politics, with the latter often finding one of them being contrary just to stir up a reaction.

They also tell jokes and share stories, "sometimes the same jokes and stories," Johnson said. But the repetition does little to dampen the reception the stories get. The group laughed along as Michalik told a newcomer about how he organized a church caroling group that sang a Slovak song with an alluring melody that everyone loved to hear.

"Of course, nobody [listening to the song] understood the words," he said, "which were, 'My girlfriend has fat legs.'"

After nearly two hours of banter and several plates of pancakes, the group drifted toward the parking lot. No one bothered to ask who planned to be there next week because there's only one acceptable excuse for missing a meeting, Johnson said.

"If you've been given last rites, you're allowed to skip it."

Jeff Strickler • 612-673-7392