Crossroads of Life

I love coffee. Some say I am an addict, but that’s not true. I could stop cold turkey anytime I wanted to.

I just don’t want to.

I do spend a lot of time in coffee shops – one in particular. I was there this morning. In addition to great coffee, the little coffee house offers every customer an open ear on the world. We customers have only to tune it in.

This morning, a lady in line behind me was on her cell phone: “I just want one reason to wake up in the morning and not feel like a loser,” she told someone. I didn’t turn around. “But I had 11 interviews this week,” she explained to her phone mate, trying to sound optimistic, but failing.

Two college age girls chatted in front of me: “You didn’t? No! Does your mother know?”

I recognized three elderly men in the back corner. Friends for a very long time, they drive to this little coffee house each Saturday – one from as far as 30 miles away – to share memories of good times enjoyed together long ago. Sometimes they work on world problems. This morning, they are engaged in a conversation about how to solve the mile deep oil gusher in the Gulf of Mexico.

“Oil and water don’t mix, do they?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, if that well keeps gushing, what are they going to do with all that water displaced; when the Gulf fills up, won’t the water flood New Orleans?” (I wonder where they heard that one.)

And just about every day, I observe two women deep in conversation off to one side. Not the same two women, mind you – just two women. (Never two men.) One is usually unloading her soul to the other. The second just nods understandingly and pats the first on the hand, arm or shoulder -- often all three during their time together. And each time, it is clear to me from the scraps of conversation picked up that the first is getting a divorce, or a separation – or maybe the husband “just doesn’t understand me anymore.”

Speaking of marital discord, a not very happy couple came in yesterday afternoon. As the man slumped in a chair, the woman got out a notebook and started taking notes. My first thought: “Uh-oh. I’ve seen this before – and it is not good.” It became clear they were already separated and the purpose of this meeting in a “neutral spot” was to make decisions with respect to the children. How was it possible to learn all that? Easy. As they talked, the decibel level of their voices increased progressively and soon everyone within earshot learned the details of their lives. Thankfully, they are not regulars.

The regulars are easy to spot. Every morning, a lady sits against the wall near the electric outlet writing a novel. She’s been there every day for several years. I still don’t know the plot. Also among the regulars is a small group who meet weekly to participate in Bible study. At least, I think it is Bible study; their conversation is entirely in Korean.

The counter is now in sight. “Have you tried their homemade breakfast muffins,” a customer asked me. “They are glorious.”

“No,” I said, “I just come for the coffee.”

She looked at me as if to say: “Black coffee? Whoever heard such.” About that time, her cell phone rang and she was soon engrossed in new conversation. The last thing I heard her say: “I have this life coach who talks to me every day. He has the answers to all my problems. I’ll give you his number.”

What is a life coach anyway?

As I approached the counter, one of the baristas came out of the back with a 9 pound bucket filled with something that looked like wallpaper paste, and these words were written on its side: “Frozen Gourmet Muffin Batter.”

I love homemade breakfast muffins, don’t you?

Forget Facebook and Linked In, my coffee shop is the best social networking site I have found. The crossroads of life are there as well as the best coffee in town.