Un Cafe, s'il vous plait? A Former Barista's Eye on Coffee and Social Dynamics

Coffee. Just breathe that in for a second: Coffee.

When you think of coffee, you think the smell, the taste, and the caffeine kick. You think of "the best part of waking up, is Folgers in your cup." Maybe it's not Folgers coffee, but perhaps Starbucks, Dunkin' Donuts, Alterra, some obscure brand of local organic coffee, or even the rare, high brow coffee that has passed through a cat's bowels.

Whatever your brand or brew of choice - where do you go to get it? Whatever is in the pot at work? At the local coffee shop around the corner? A the Starbucks on the way into work? Or dare I say, McDonald’s?

Coffeehouses, coffee shops, whatever you want to call them, have always been the bastions of social needs and the grooming grounds of intellect, (or shall I say – pseudo-intellect). There is nothing better suited to a small metropolis than the coffee shop. It is my belief that the type of coffee shop defines the place – the town, the city, the sector.

In Green Bay, WI, there are several shops that masquerade themselves as coffee shops. These shops are not necessarily defined by their locale in the simplest sense of place, but rather by their inherent nature.

By inherent nature, I’m not referring to the green and gold wearing, or the fur trading in years of yore. By inherent nature, I am referring to the principles by which people get by or respond to a question as “that’s the way things are.” For instance, the people of Green Bay have a sub-par transit system, slowly on route to further demise with budget cuts, and the infrastructure is of the automobile persuasion, i.e. little room for pedestrians and cyclists. If you were to sit at the intersection of Pilgrim Way and Oneida Street – watch as consumers drive to Barnes and Noble, get back in their car, drive to Best Buy, get back in their car, and inevitably drive to Bay Park Square Mall. All of these Businesses conveniently provide ample parking space, less-than horrifying pedestrian paths, and are comfortably located within easy access, on none-other than Pilgrim and Oneida. Why do they do that? “That’s the way things are.”

I digress – Coffee shops. The mainstream coffee shops in Green Bay are Kavarna, Café Espresso, The Attic Books & Coffee, Crystal Coffee, Cup ‘o Joy, Luna, LaJava, Lox, Stock and Bagel, a few unmentionable drive-up windows I care not to remember, Harmony Café, and of course the plethora of Starbucks. An honorable mention and tribute goes out to Joe-to-Go, R.I.P. That taco thing was just too risky Joe, what were you thinking?

Let’s take a moment to look at Green Bay. Green Bay is divided by a natural fixture into two halves by the Fox River, and halved again by the man-made boundary of Mason Street. Before anyone begins to huff-and-puff about my absolutely depraved summary of Green Bay’s lay-of-the-land, I know there is more to this community and I should note I have lived in all of the corners of this city. I’ve walked the streets, bused the systems, and served the constituents in various forms. However, we’re talking coffee shops here, not politics.

The North-West of Green Bay is a mixture of borderline impoverished folk and middle class families (blue-collar families of the industrial or service sectors); the South-West houses generally a great abundance of white, middle-class people (very white collar). The South-East consists of a mixture of elderly, upper-middle class (teachers, white collar workers) and a small nebulous of wealth closer to the river (doctors, retired wealth).

The North-East side houses many of what Green Bay might consider as their “urban poor.” This includes minorities, homeless, the mentally disturbed, college students, of course the revitalizers (those people looking to invigorate the sleeping downtown). It is here we will find The Attic Books and Coffee.

Located in the last stretch of Green Bay's “downtown” on the corner of Jackson and Bodart Street, The Attic Books & Coffee huddles, in the sights of Whitney Park, the Greyhound Station, is a brief walk to the Metro Station. It was at The Attic, for over 4 years, I served the masses their lattes and mochas, I recommended Whitman over Byron, I consoled broken hearts and then wiped up an overflowing toilet with a mop and bleach.

Every coffee shop has its variety of clientele, but I can tell you – not like The Attic. A morning would consist of the morning commuters, bridge-clubbers, the house-wives, the downtown mid-morning “on-breakers,” a mentally disabled person, and maybe one of the homeless - begging for "bus-fare." Around 11 am through 1 pm, a rash of lunch breaks. Around 4 pm, the post-work caffeine fixers, the stress relievers, the book clubs, the craft clubs, and another mentally disabled person - usually the woman who paints sail-boats and sleeps in the park on her own volition or the "he-she,"Marlene, who is quite belligerent about her coffee with Irish Creme. After 6:00, when the sun goes down, there's the daters, the later group of high-schoolers (scholars or I'm going to pretend I'm interested in coffee & books, but deep down I don't have the taste for either), and the predictable, "eclectic" bunch with the diversity of an inbred, island tribe - the artists, the musicians and the writers. And of course, last minute stragglers, including intoxicated people kicked out of the bars down the street. 10 pm. Closing time.

Never a dull moment.

The diversity of the Attic clientele both makes and breaks the situation. Not only does it rely on both savory and unsavory characters, it has been assigned the calling card of "danger - downtown crazies." However, it is not dangerous. The Attic has a host of regulars that are quick to defend their turf (and their baristas I might add), should the situation arise. The Attic is Home to quite a few, who otherwise lead normal lives, no matter their profession. One can easily go to The Attic with the intention of having a quick, relaxing latte while enjoying a book and get stuck in The Attic loop, i.e. you're about to leave and an acquaintance comes in and repeat this cycle several times.

This loop is a characteristic of downtown - once you are a downtowner, it is difficult to leave downtown, even if all the amenities are lacking. It is the only spot in the city of Green Bay where people are on their feet - walking, it is the only spot in town where there is a diverse group of people, in diverse professions and diverse interests. You will not find this anywhere else in Green Bay.

It is for this reason, coffee shops are the canary in the mine, and the nature of the coffee shop tells the story of the locale.

Internal Battle With My Late Grandmother

This past November, my grandmother died. She was the last of the Great Depression generation in my family. Only one person from the family spoke at the Catholic Mass given in her honor (and at her own request). The one person who spoke was also the one person my grandmother feared the most, my aunt. My aunt would have people believe that my grandmother's life was only dedicated solely to the Church, nullifying her ambitions, her passion for the environment, politics and so much more. However, before I get all sentimental, I should note that there is little sentimentality to be given on either account, my grandmother nor my aunt. Propped up by their own lies, it is difficult sympathize with both parties who act simultaneously as the victim and the perpetrator. I'm apt to side with my grandmother for her feebleness in the end. My aunt's brute strength and unbelievable layers of filthy lies manifest and her evil demeanor is always candied in "family" feeling.

Long before my grandmother's death, she gave into the many pitches and waves of dementia. She left my family with a bit of hope that we may steal a bit of her each visit, a bit of the past, a bit of our history. All for not. She was stuck in time - 15 years ago, right before my grandfather died. She did not recognize her grandchildren, we had all grown up.

During my Undergraduate career, I wrote a poem discussing the abuses my mother suffered when she was a child by my own grandmother's hand. It is extremely difficult to manage grief and anger at the same person without really being able to manage an outcome on either side. Pity also manages to fit into the equation. My grandfather's affairs, a conniving daughter, a schizophrenic/abusive son, and a unaccountable/socially unresponsive son could break any woman. (I have left out my mother who was a convent dropout with great ambition and my dear Uncle Phil who's dreams have led him to NASA.)

Pity, grief and anger... Where do we go from here?

Product of a Generation

She grew up during the Depression hiding all.
Food.
Money.
Feeling.
Sanity.

80 years, she has surviving that Great Fall.
The bank sends her flowers once a week
and always on holidays.

The doctors tell her she must bathe.
She swabs her underarms
with rubbing alcohol on used cotton balls.
She turns her socks inside out for another day's wear
and neglects the crone-like hair growing from her chin.

At the grocer, an overwhelming smell of putrid sweat
follows her as she tucks a cheese block up her sleeve,
and braces a Virginian ham between her thighs.
Your pen is stifled between her sagging breasts.

She hordes it all in her home.
Expiration dates from 20 years ago
title prescription bottles in her medicine cabinet.
There is fruit rotting under her bed
next to shoe boxes full of money.
Stolen meats are green and rotting in her fridge
and the ketchup turned into blackened vinegar.

The bank sends her flowers once a week
and always on holidays.

She hasn't a dime to spare for her children.
On the sixth anniversary of her daughters husbands death,
she call her,
She wants the funeral money back.

This woman who pushed her daughter
to the ground, throwing her fists
upon her little girl
biting her nose -
she has nothing to give.
This fetid woman
who made her children endure
poverty and beg
could give no maternal warmth
and has stolen all feeling.

The bank sends her flowers once a week
and always on holidays.

(c) Catherine A. Viste

Where do we go from here?

Life & Writing - Confrontation & Action

Today is the day of confrontation. Today, I confront my self induced writer's block.

I have been a fraud these past months. I have called myself a writer, without having written anything of even remote substantial quality. All creativity has been slammed into a wall of "no time," "too tired," and "I'll get to it." However, I obviously have time, I am not tired, and the self sabotage lies in: I procrastinate.

With all professions or "hobbies," one must set goals, a schedule or outline, and stick to it. The motivation, however, is often shadowed by what we call responsibilities. What we often deem as responsibilities are nothing more than excuses and self-martyrdom. What we dream of doing is sacrificed by what we estimate we need to do.

So how do we stop this self-sabotage and achieve the best of both worlds? Many gurus advise any number of "motivating" "success" steps. However, if you lack the ability to follow their prescribed guidelines, you need to develop your own, customized plan and be willing to let it change. That's the largest issue with the prescribed plans; they allow little room for deviation. And isn't that what writer's are, a bit deviant?

In the past, I employed a list. It was the "I want to do" list. However, I failed to make the "I need to do," which in turn would inspire the "How to do it" list that would later achieve the "I want to do's." This is a sad admittance because in order for me to create the latter two lists I have to admit boundaries and limitations, not to mention address all of those dusty skeletons in the closet. So, I find myself wrapped up in a disgusting amount unfinished business, unable to really achieve the "I want to do's."

Here's the plan.

1. Make the "need to do list." Creative or nuts and bolts, needs to be done list. And keep it basic and make sure that it falls into the needs instead of wants.


2. Make the "how to do it," and yes, I may need to be creative and ask for help.


3. Schedule Actions and stick to it.

A friend of mine is really into David Ramsey and his financial plan with "The Snowball Effect." This "effect" could be applied to anything, not just money. If you invest more of your time in the smaller issues first and less time on the larger issues, in theory, each issue will eventually gain momentum exponentially like a snowball. You continue to move on to the next larger issue (comparatively larger than the initial issue) until it's finished, and you keep going until there is nothing left.

Ramsey also recommends backup for emergency purposes. So, if we are applying his theory to life, what's the backup? I believe this involves networking. If you have closed yourself off for awhile, as I have, networking may begin by reigniting past friendships, getting into contact with peers/colleagues and then you can move on to new contacts. Having people around you keeps you motivated and if you are stuck, assistance.

David Orr once said:

"Hope is a verb with its sleeves rolled up."

I had always considered hope to be folly, I've "hoped" for years and years. I had it all wrong. I had assigned the wrong philosophy to the word hope: the "it will fall into your lap" philosophy. Orr's philosophy involves hope as an action.

Action it is then.