Coffeehouse Fill

Jeanna G3 Comments

Many themes cross my mind when I think of high school, but one of the more prominent ones is what I consider the heyday of coffeehouses. Of course it was not the most popular time in the existence of coffeehouses, but in my world, it was.

The shows I watched were Friends, Seinfeld, and Frasier. Each of those shows featured a coffeehouse, cafe, or coffeeshop. And yes, there’s a difference between the three. But what they all have in common is, they weren’t the kind of place you’d drive up to and get your order from a window. Instead, you’d saunter in, order, and hangout.

What was also popular in my circle in high school was learning to play the guitar, or some other instrument that was good for a band. This went hand-in-hand with the popularity of coffeehouses when it came to open-mic nights. The two, together, were a match made in heaven. It helps that my high school sweetheart is who I’d go watch sing and play.

I loved the atmosphere of a coffeehouse back then. The aromas, the lighting, the local artwork. People sat to chat…together. They’d order their giant mugs of cafe au lait, and talk, face-to-face in a non-virtual realm, about whatever came to mind. There weren’t any zooms or smart phones getting in the way of genuine, 3-D interaction. I loved the sounds of the milk steamer, cups to saucers, quiet conversations, and coffeehouse music.

The ironic aspect of this story is that I didn’t drink coffee when I frequented coffeehouses. Now I can’t seem to live without it, and I haven’t been to coffeehouses in decades. When I was in college, I literally rolled pennies to be able to afford what I needed. That had a huge impact on how I spend money these days. Buying a cup of coffee is a treat, not a daily expense. I didn’t actually start drinking coffee until I was 27, and my job as an office manager involved making coffee for the staff. The hazelnut smelled too good to not try. And try again. And try a few more times after that. A couple of stints later, I was a barista for Seattle’s Best at a Borders Bookstore. I loved it, mainly for the organic, fair trade no. 4 with caramel, and my lovely co-worker, Katie. I also loved being immersed in the scents of fresh-brewed coffee and brand new books. Since the bookstore closed, I haven’t had my coffeehouse fill. Maybe I should open my own coffeehouse? That’s probably an idea I should let steep for awhile. In the meantime, I can play pretend at home.

My Coffeehouse

To create my own coffeehouse, I ordered an espresso maker to add to my two drip pots. I buy espresso ground coffee from a local company, and use different flavors of Torani syrup to add sweetness. I’ve learned how tasty honey is in a cold brew, so I buy local liquid gold from the general store. My eclectic mug collection adds some personality. To top it all off, I made myself a Spotify playlist with artists like Natalie Merchant, Des’ree, Indigo Girls, U2, and Putomayo to help set the mood. Now I just need to learn the guitar and gather an audience. For now I think I’ll just sip on my brews and type out my thoughts.

Everybody Loves A Parade

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Memorial Day is, of course, a time to reflect and mourn the loss of our fallen heroes, but to also celebrate what we have gained as a result of their service and sacrifices. Memorial Day has become the unofficial kickoff to summer with all of the cookouts, pool openings, and parades.

Throughout my childhood, on Memorial Day, my family and I would walk down our road to the town center to watch the annual parade. Most years, at least one of us was in the parade. Whether it was the marching band or the fyfe and drum corps, we’d meet with our group in the Geissler’s parking lot to warm up and line up.

That parade would always march to the town cemetery for the playing of Taps, the flag ceremony, and the gun salute, then on to the old middle school for speeches, and then back to the town center for the laying of the wreaths. It was a long, hot morning for those of us who marched, but we always felt proud to be a part of the day.

Actually, I always felt proud to be a part of any parade while marching with the fyfe and drum corps. We were the Marquis of Granby, and we were really good. We were known for our crisp uniforms and precise and serious presentations. We were also probably considered the ‘snobby’ fyfe and drum corps at musters, but we embraced it because we knew we were good, and that made us feel good and want to be even better. It’s laughable to think of a group of kids dressed in revolutionary war-time garb marching down the street as snobby when, in fact, we were actually a very silly group of kids. We just knew when to act right.

Marquis of Granby marching through the town center on Memorial Day

I loved being a part of that organization. We traveled all over the Northeast for parades and musters. Our leaders were great at supplementing our trips with other learning experiences, like whale watches, dinner theaters, and touring museums and churches. And even without the extras, it was a learning experience just to visit other places and witness the townsfolk celebrating whatever that particular parade was about. One of my favorites was the Blessing of the Fleet in Gloucester, MA. It was a very long parade, but it was along the coastline, and we stopped for a break at just about every church in town while the priests gave their blessings. At the end we’d get to witness the spectacle of the Greasy Pole contest, while costumed contestants would attempt to make their way to the end of a 45-foot telephone pole to grab a flag before falling into the water. Memorable, for sure.

If I had to guess, I’d say I marched in close to 100 parades with the corps over the few years I was a member. I’m not sure if that equals the 10,000 hours of practice that is required to achieve mastery, but I know that at 30 years later, I can still pick up my fyfe and play many of our songs by memory. I don’t march anymore, and maybe I just haven’t been looking close enough, but fife and drum corps don’t seem to be as popular down here in the south. Either way, I still love a parade, so I’m always up for going and watching all of the groups show what they know, as silly or as serious as they may be.

Betting On The Ponies

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My family has been betting on the ponies for at least four generations. My mom and grandpa used to bet quarters on who would win. My mom would always pick who looked best going onto the field, usually number 8. I don’t know how my grandpa picked, but he usually won. I watched the races because my mom did, and I picked whatever number or name was sounding lucky that day. That’s how my daughter picks now, too. 

My uncle liked to bet, too, so he and I would chat about our picks prior to the race. He taught me more about how to pick besides colors, names, and numbers. In the last Triple Crown race before he passed, I finally picked a winner, Sir Winston in the 2019 Belmont Stakes.

In 2020, Covid pushed the races back to the fall, so my friends and I watched the race during our beach trip and got the kids all hyped up about it by having them draw a horse out of a hat. In 2021, I found a friend who also enjoys the races and she makes an amazing beer cheese dip, and her husband makes a perfect mint julep, so we enjoyed the Derby together. This year I picked Epicenter to win the Derby but the long-shot horse my daughter picked beat mine by three-quarters of a length. I think that win was enough for her to continue our family tradition.

Tonight is the Preakness stakes, which I attended about 15 years ago. If I ever make it to the Belmont stakes or the Kentucky Derby, I will definitely buy seats in the grandstand, because the infield at Pimlico was nothing I want to re-experience. But for now I’ll continue to watch the Triple Crown on TV and bet on the ponies with my daughter, and hopefully my uncle and grandpa will send a little luck down from above.