This place was once my home away from home.
I don't mean that casually. In my late 20s and early 30s, when I was still single, I would often stop by in the morning for a cup of coffee before going to work. I'd grab a quick bite to eat at lunch, then sit here with a book for 20 or 30 minutes with a second cup of coffee. And many evenings, after grabbing a quick supper, I'd sit here in the evening for more reading and another cup. (This was back before I realized that all the caffeine was messing up my sleep.)
I don't mean that casually. In my late 20s and early 30s, when I was still single, I would often stop by in the morning for a cup of coffee before going to work. I'd grab a quick bite to eat at lunch, then sit here with a book for 20 or 30 minutes with a second cup of coffee. And many evenings, after grabbing a quick supper, I'd sit here in the evening for more reading and another cup. (This was back before I realized that all the caffeine was messing up my sleep.)
This was my Cheers. I knew the names of all the regulars. They knew me. Some of my longest friendships were formed here -- before the pandemic set in, my family was having regular suppers with a woman who was a barista at this shop for more than a decade. When I stopped going to church in the mid-aughts, this was where I spent my Sunday mornings.
La Prima Tazza is still alive. But right now it's not the same, obviously. There is no lingering over a book in the front window, reading and watching the world go buy. You go inside, get your drink, and get outside as efficiently and expeditiously as possible.
I spent some time on the block this morning. Free State Brewery next door is where my friends and I spent a lot of evenings, grabbing a quick beer or having dinner. On the other side, Liberty Hall movie theater changed my moviegoing life. Around the block, Raven Book Store shaped the reader I've become as an adult. And a little further down the block is the old Post Office -- now a Blue Cross office building, but once upon a time the headquarters for the newspaper where I grew up professionally.
The newspaper has moved. The bookstore does delivery, but no browsing for now. Liberty Hall is only open a couple of days a week -- and, well, I'm not ready to sit in a movie theater yet.
The future is uncertain for all of us right now, but one of the things that devastates me about the pandemic is how it threatens the past -- how it threatens not just our lives, but the places and people who gave us life, that shaped who we are ... who I am. I realized this morning that I don't just miss the coffee shop and its people. I miss coffee shop music.
Isn't that weird?
Isn't that weird?
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