In the Shell of Serendipity

So, my favorite coffee place in town, Serendipity, closed down last year when yet another freakin’ Starbucks moved in down the road. I liked Serendipity, with its vaguely bohemian atmosphere and mixed clientele.

I’m sitting in what was Serendipity as a write this. It’s now a Bad Ass Coffee Company store, with company headquarters allegedly based in Hawaii. They did an excellent job of obliterating the spirit of the old Serendipity; I scarcely recognize it as the same locale.

One reason I avoid Starbucks is that I refuse to join their damned culture to get a damned cup of coffee or tea. A small cup of coffee is not a “tall,” for cripe’s sake. But hey, order a “small coffee” in Starbucks, and there’s a good chance the employee, his or her mind absorbed by the Starbucks Collective, will look at you like you just pooped on the floor.

I'm a wee bit afraid to walk into a Starbucks. I'm afraid some day I'll snap. "JUST GIVE ME A SMALL COFFEE AND SPARE ME YOUR CORPORATE NEWSPEAK, ASSHOLE!" And, y'see, I just can't risk that, since I'm supposed to be so freakin' mellow.

The employees here at Bad Ass have their own irritating habit: As you walk up to the counter, they yell out “ALOHA!” Sheesh, I jump every time they do that! What the heck is that, anyway? Do they really think that my heart and soul will magically be transported to the Kona Coast because they yell out “Aloha”? Give me a freakin' break! I think the manager who mandated that greeting should be bitch-slapped by Paul Reubens.

Oh well. At least they don’t look at me like I’m a bug when I order a small cup of coffee.

I’m feelin’ grumpy.

Sadness 'n Me

“Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.” Kahlil Gibran.

I don’t think folks who work with me would describe me as a sad person. In fact, unless people are misleading me, I’m viewed as a generally upbeat, cheerful kinda guy. That’s good. We’ve all worked around those who practice the “misery loves company” religion, and folks like that can drag a workplace down.

My wife apparently doesn’t view me as a sad-sack either. One day, after we'd been married for a couple of years, she looked at me, and out of the blue asked, “What happened to you, anyway?” “Whataya mean?” “Well, I remember you when you were seventeen. You were always so serious, so wrapped up in thought, so . . . pensive. And now. . .” She giggles. “Now, you’re such a goofball.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said, wearing my best mock "I'm offended" expression. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” she maintained. “I like it that you’re more willing to be silly.”

It’s true. As a teenager, when Rhonda got to know me, I tended to be lost in thought, brooding, and pondering all there was to feel sadness over. I didn’t smile a lot, and I tended to live inside my head.

Maybe flying for a living changed my demeanor. I dunno. My outlook on life just seemed to change as I grew older. I held to the notion that life is full of sadness, and that’s all the more reason to bask in joy, humor, and laughter when they come around.

And yet, nothing seems to stir my creative juices like sadness. I love to read sad tales, listen to sad songs, and write about sad moments. Heck, I could write blog after blog entry about homesickness, and how I miss my wife and son when I’m away. Folks kind enough to stay with me would soon no doubt think, “Geez, Hal, you have a lot to feel thankful for, so give us a break, okay?” I wouldn’t blame them.

Still, I'm drawn to the exploration of blue. George MacDonald wrote, “Beauty and sadness always go together. Nature thought beauty too rich to go forth upon the earth without a meet alloy.” That’s so true of my state of mind when I’m leaving home. I’m wrapped in sad when I leave my “real” life, and yet, that sadness grounds me in all I have to feel appreciative about, and it spotlights the beauty of the little things in my life, like listening to my wife and son laugh together.

Also, I’m afraid to leave it alone. I’m afraid that if I leave it alone, it’ll grow into a big scary monster—depression, maybe—and it’ll sneak up and bite me on the ass. Sadness needs to be aired out, in my book. Leave the door locked on sadness, and there’s a risk mold will grow.

I’ve known people who avoid sadness at any cost, or so it seems. Sometimes, I feel sorry for them. Why? Well, I can best express my feelings on that with another quote. Erich Fromm wrote, “One cannot be deeply responsive to the world without being saddened very often.”

And hey, some goofballs want to be responsive to the world.

A Sports World Death/Meeting Clint Again

In Lou Schuler's blog this morning, I read about about another alcohol-related tragedy involving a professional sports athlete. Here's an excerpt from Lou's blog.

"Late last Saturday night -- Sunday morning, if you want to be precise -- a 29-year-old relief pitcher for the St. Louis Cardinals died in an auto accident. He plowed his rented SUV into a tow truck, which was parked in the left traffic lane, clearing up an earlier accident. The St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported that the pitcher, Josh Hancock, had been drinking heavily, according to eyewitnesses, and was on his way to do more drinking with a group of teammates. A restaurant manager had offered to call a cab for him. He'd declined."

This, following in the wake of Bob Barbanes' blog post concerning an intervention he participated in, brings to mind that old saying usually attributed to George Bernard Shaw: "Youth is wasted on the young."

Now, I'm not one to get sanctimonious about the use of alcohol. The fact is, I was somewhat of a party animal throughout my twenties and thirties. Luckily for me, I was addicted to the bars, taverns, and live music, not so much the alcohol. Still, I willingly gave into that "when in Rome" syndrome when out on the town. I felt, back then, that I needed the social lubrication adult beverages provided.

So, no, you won't see me pointing a pious finger at those who imbibe. Alcohol will likely have a place in our society for generations to come. For all of its potential evils, it's the most accepted recreational drug in our world, and we learned in the U.S. that making it illegal did nothing but make some folks rich. In moderation, it may well protect against heart disease. And, while I sometimes go weeks without touching an alcoholic beverage, I still enjoy downing a glass or two of beer or wine now and then.

But still, I can't help but ponder the costs . . .

One day in the early 90's, I was helping our swamped dispatcher manifest passengers. I was compiling names and weights for a helicopter flight to an offshore oil platform--one of mine, as it turned out--when I saw his name. I hadn't seen Clint in person since junior high school; we went to different high schools. I had seen him on TV, though, playing in the defensive backfield for USC. He would go on to play four seasons for the Minnesota Vikings.

Looking at the sign-in sheet, I expected to see something indicating Clint was an engineer or geologist. When I noted that he worked for the catering company, I assumed that he must have taken a position as a manager, and was taking a day away from his office to visit employees offshore. I looked out over the waiting room and spotted him. He was wearing a catering uniform.

I'd once watched Clint on TV, catching an interception and running it back for a touchdown. Now I was flying him out to an offshore platform to clean living quarters. His boss later told me that Clint's downfall was part of that Same Ol' Story: alcohol, drugs, gambling, and women.

The whole thing hit me surprisingly hard. I'd been in awe of the guy's athletic prowess since the second grade. He was a soft-spoken, gentle giant who we all wanted the best for--he was easy to like.

We landed on the offshore platform, and I watched him walk down the stairway. I remembered watching him dunk a basketball in the eighth grade. I remembered that as a high school freshman, he dominated senior varsity players in both basketball and football. Now he was making beds and doing laundry for a living.

It was not a good feeling.

David's Rules

David's rules for aspiring writers. (I paraphrased from his recent blog post. Hope you don't mind, David.)

1. Write more.
2. Read more.
3. Trust yourself more.
4. Open up more.
5. Listen more.
6. Meet more people.