Macy’s!! I love that place; glad to know some good thing has survived the mass commercialization of coffee.
Speaking of which, do you remember the Coffee Plantation on Mill? I got a tiptop bean education working there during college breaks…I never roasted myself, but was a real coffee snob until I gave it up for tea at 33 — a switch I made when I quit cigarettes, one of my own wrestles with addiction.
Hope revisiting this and other worthwhile hobbies brings evermore solace ☕️
I do think of the Coffee Plantation now and again. It was the first true coffee hangout when we were kids —I don’t remember a Starbucks in Tempe before college. It was before Mill was cleaned up and made “safe”.
I love the way you weave together the disparate threads of your life with vulnerability and authenticity and integrity. You’re doing the work, Chris. You are trustworthy.
It’s 5pm here. The Bialetti’s bubbling. The kitchen smells of coffee & stove-warmed air, & somehow, of your piece. I don’t have the right words for Liz—just that I see the outline she’s left behind, & it’s full of light. You didn’t have to say much. It’s all there. This felt less like reading & more like sitting beside someone who’s lived through the burn & stayed anyway. There’s something in that I want to carry with me awhile.
One day I’ll tell you about my failed attempt at fried ice cream—I’m not one for instructions either in case you hadn’t guessed. I’m so glad you finished this piece, Chris. It means something that you did.
Kim! I stated a reply, but it felt unworthy of your incredibly kind words. Just the thought that my feeble attempts to capture the past, while exposing myself, would find its way to your kitchen, or your coffee, wraps my heart and mind with indescribable emotion. I will carry your note with me for a long while.
It is also special to me that you commented, because your piece on life and olives whispered and prompted me to pick it back up. Thank you.
Your words touched my heart, Chris. I feel so many emotions under the surface. Sending peace.
Macy’s!! I love that place; glad to know some good thing has survived the mass commercialization of coffee.
Speaking of which, do you remember the Coffee Plantation on Mill? I got a tiptop bean education working there during college breaks…I never roasted myself, but was a real coffee snob until I gave it up for tea at 33 — a switch I made when I quit cigarettes, one of my own wrestles with addiction.
Hope revisiting this and other worthwhile hobbies brings evermore solace ☕️
Also the gumball machine lamp 🙌
I do think of the Coffee Plantation now and again. It was the first true coffee hangout when we were kids —I don’t remember a Starbucks in Tempe before college. It was before Mill was cleaned up and made “safe”.
I love the way you weave together the disparate threads of your life with vulnerability and authenticity and integrity. You’re doing the work, Chris. You are trustworthy.
Thank you Joyce. I really appreciate how you see the not so hidden issues I a wrestle with.
It’s 5pm here. The Bialetti’s bubbling. The kitchen smells of coffee & stove-warmed air, & somehow, of your piece. I don’t have the right words for Liz—just that I see the outline she’s left behind, & it’s full of light. You didn’t have to say much. It’s all there. This felt less like reading & more like sitting beside someone who’s lived through the burn & stayed anyway. There’s something in that I want to carry with me awhile.
One day I’ll tell you about my failed attempt at fried ice cream—I’m not one for instructions either in case you hadn’t guessed. I’m so glad you finished this piece, Chris. It means something that you did.
Kim! I stated a reply, but it felt unworthy of your incredibly kind words. Just the thought that my feeble attempts to capture the past, while exposing myself, would find its way to your kitchen, or your coffee, wraps my heart and mind with indescribable emotion. I will carry your note with me for a long while.
It is also special to me that you commented, because your piece on life and olives whispered and prompted me to pick it back up. Thank you.
I’m so moved to know that, Chris. We never know what finds its way through, do we? I’m glad the olives whispered. I’m glad you listened.
Loved reading through the various facets of your life 💜