Missing Starbucks

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On Writing, Starbucks

My biggest problem with this coronavirus home-stay is missing Starbucks. So far I’ve avoided getting sick (fingers crossed), but the self-seclusion has drawbacks. Sure, like most writers I’m comfortable with time alone; we even prefer it. Life before the coronavirus was rather isolated already. But this is different.

Writing is a solitary life. We dig deep into physical and virtual resources for background information and facts. I’m primarily a nonfiction writer, which means spending hours researching a topic that might be one sentence in the final book. Writing sessions have to be done in chunks long enough to get into a rhythm and flow. Distractions must be minimized, which is hard enough to do in this connected world and exacerbated by the pull of coronavirus updates.

In short, writers spend a lot of time alone. Mostly we like it, but even the most introverted writer needs to be around people occasionally.

Which is why Starbucks is so important.

Before I go on, let me clarify that when I say Starbucks I am including the Barnes and Noble coffeeshop, Panera, the mall, and a variety of other venues that are within walking distance from my home. I generally vary the destination when I go out because, well, going to one place every day can get as boring as staying within the four walls of my house. But despite this variety, Starbucks is special.

Oh, I should mention that I don’t drink coffee.

Yeah, I know. Starbucks. Coffee Company. Their entire raison d’être is convincing customers to pay more than $5 for a revved-up cup of coffee when they could get a basic coffee for free in their home or office. But I don’t drink coffee. I never acquired a taste for the bitterness or the heat. Give me a cup of coffee or tea and I spend my time calculating the narrow three-minute window of drinkability when it is neither too hot nor too cold. Not my cup of tea, so to speak.*

What I usually order is a mocha Frappuccino. Starbucks mochas taste more like chocolate than they do coffee. When I get a Frappuccino (or its New England cousin, the frappe) from a non-Starbucks coffee house I’m disappointed because they taste like coffee, with at best a hint of cocoa. The Frappuccino is also mostly crushed ice, again unlike versions at other places that put ice cubes in the too-coffee mochas. Like the hot vs cold, the crushed vs block ice is a very Goldilocks “just right” at Starbucks.

In any case, I’m not there for the coffee, or even the mocha. I’m there for the people. It’s not that I talk to the other people in the store. It’s more about the activity. People are coming in, ordering, waiting for their coffee (or Frappuccino or latte or whatever), or taking up four spaces at a table with their laptop open. The regular baristas offer both stability and variety. There is a human busyness that contrasts with the solitude of the writer’s desk. And there are stories. Some are real – the person with the extra-high heels struggling to stay upright; others are imagined – an entire life history created out of how someone looks or acts while waiting for their drink. It’s a people-watchers dream. And writers are all people watchers. The key is that I’m there for the humanity and not for the coffee.

COVID-19 has put a stop to that. My local Starbucks is closed for the duration of the outbreak. There are two with drive-thru windows that remain open for desperate coffee-drinkers, but windows are useless since I don’t go to Starbucks for the coffee. I did visit the local Barnes and Noble once since this started. They too have a Starbucks coffee shop inside, but they too have eliminated in-store seating and are only accessible to buy and go. [The bookstore itself only allows 10 customers at a time, which hardly seems worth it.] This misses the entire point of the trip. It isn’t the coffee, it’s the ability to sit and be among people.

I admit that I’m a bit discombobulated without these periodic visits to Starbucks et al. This forced seclusion isn’t that much different (minus the Starbucks) than my usual lifestyle, so it should be a great time to focus on writing. Alas, I’ve been stuck on a chapter for some time now. But I’m determined to push through the pain much like a marathoner must push through that cramping calf at mile 22, even though my progress often seems more like around mile 2.2 of this book marathon. Still, I must.

Focus. Write. Repeat.

*Ironically, I loved coffee ice cream growing up and gobbled down a ton of chocolate covered coffee beans at a coffee plantation in Costa Rica. Go figure.

David J. Kent is a science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

Starbucks Sad and Strange

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Starbucks

The view from the comfy chair at Starbucks is occasionally sad, sometimes strange, but always interesting. Upon entering this day we nod in silent recognition to the woman in the long down coat. Purple, or perhaps more fashionably lavender or even periwinkle, she wore the same coat no matter the weather. An older woman, we could count on seeing her every time we walked to our local Starbucks for lunch. A sort of sadness envelopes her, yet her expression isn’t gloomy. Nor does she smile, or talk, or engage with any customers.

I can’t help but recall an old song by Dan Fogelberg. Windows and Walls tells the story of an older woman, her husband long since dead and her married children living far away. Nobody every comes by any more and mostly she sits and stares at the windows and walls. But sometimes she takes herself outside:

Maybe she’ll go to the corner today
And pick up the new McCall’s
If just to escape for an hour
From her windows and walls

I picture this woman’s routine a version of the song. Walking whatever distance to camp for a while in the corner at Starbucks just to see people. Of course, her story may be vastly different from what I imagine, but to me her life seems sad.

On this particular day there was also the strange. At first I paid no attention to the table next to us. Two women seemingly in their 20s or 30s sat there chatting; perhaps friends meeting for a latte or mocha Frappuccino? But then the tarot cards came out. As one flipped over individual cards, the other became increasingly enrapt in their meaning. Or at least the meaning that the first woman – should I call her a medium? – was inventing with each turn of a card. Oddly enough, on this very day I had been researching a “spiritualist” who preyed on Mary Lincoln after the death of her son Willie in the Civil War White House. Charles Colchester was a noted spiritualist at the time, who not surprisingly was later run out of town for scamming his gullible clients.

So yes, I had to chuckle at the goings on next to me. I wanted to stand behind the tarot card reader with a big sign for the other woman to see: “It’s a Scam! Run!” Alas, I didn’t. Who am I to impart my views (and facts) on those who choose to believe.

Ah, then there was the interesting. A tall, classically pretty, blonde woman came in. But that wasn’t what caught my eye; instead I was immediately drawn to her feet and the fluorescent green flipflops. The footwear seemed as cheaply made as they were brilliantly bright. Only after several minutes did I realize they were the temporary fold-out ones given out by massage parlors for use on the premises. Such a massage facility was next door to Starbucks, so my bewilderment seemed to have an easy remedy, although it was still odd to see someone wearing them out in public. Perhaps she was headed back for Round 2?

But that wasn’t the oddest part. While these flipflops were thin and flat (as flipflops are wont to be), the woman was walking on her toes. Only the balls of her feet were touching the surface. My guess (or perhaps I should say my hypothesis, after all, I am a scientist) is she so routinely wears high heels that she feels uncomfortable walking on flat feet. I’ve seen other women who walk this way in flat shoes, recently even while she was wearing more substantial sneakers. And then today I saw a waiter doing the same, which really made me start to wonder if there was a new fashion trend I had somehow missed (like all the others).

But our allotted time in Starbucks this day was running out and it was time to start our hike back home. The round trip is roughly 2.5 miles so we mostly go to Starbucks for the exercise and change of scenery, but I have to admit that people watching has become a reason in itself to go.

Anyone have their own interesting experiences at Starbucks to relate?

David J. Kent is a science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

The Navy Man and the Poet

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Navy, Poet, Starbucks

Ramrod tall, his skin almost as white as his hair, he busily worked on the morning crossword. His chair was always the one tucked away around the bend in the alcove of Starbucks. Stiffer than the other three; a desk type chair instead of the leather comfy chairs that were more in the open. The crossword puzzle always presented a challenge despite his diligence and discipline. As soon as someone approached, and they invariably did, he would query them on a clue or propose an answer.

And then the friends arrived. There were always friends, or at least acquaintances that routinely stopped to chat in his ubiquitous presence. It was as if he held court from his padded office chair, every Sunday morning without fail on the days I was there, and perhaps every day of the week. His bearing was military; dignified and in control. Apparently well-traveled, there would be talk of Hong Kong, Japan, places far from here. Navy, perhaps? Officer, most likely. Retired, with honors, my bet. His dress was casual, though casual in the sense of historical spit-and-polish. Pressed slacks, nicely tailored cashmere cardigan sweater, comfortably formal shoes. He was the center of attention.

And then he was gone.

It’s been a year now, maybe more. Has he moved on to another Starbucks? Or moved on to another world?

We never spoke, but somehow, inexplicably, I miss him.

Postscript: While not my original intention, as I wrote this I thought about a friend who passed away this week. Friend in the sense that while we never met, we had shared time on an online writing site, then when that site faded into oblivion, Facebook. A scientist by training and poet at heart, she was always there for others, encouraging their writing, sharing their poetry on her blog, and keeping calm while others vented at every perceived slight on the internet. Then suddenly, she was gone. Her long silent medical battle had come to an end. Thank you, Ann, for inspiring creativity and civility. You will be missed.

David J. Kent is a science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

 

 

 

[Daily Post]

A Starbucks Comfy Chair View of the World

Tags

daily post, memoir, Starbucks

She was waiting for her caffé latte at Starbucks, or perhaps it was a caramel macchiatto. Svelte and fit, she could have passed for many women in their late 20s or early 30s. That is, except for the baby bump. And not just a bump; I’m guessing at least six, probably seven, possibly eight or nine months along. Her bump hung low, like her child was eager to make his entrance into the world. And yet the rest of her was slim, not runner-toned or workout-buff necessarily, but slender and fit. I thought of Zoe Saldana.

Oddly, she was the third pregnant woman this morning as I sat in the comfy chair at Starbucks. A 1.5-mile walk away, this particular Starbucks is an occasional indulgence, a place to get out of the house, and a place to watch people.

Like most Starbucks it has a long bar where the baristas make sense out of a dizzying array of coffee styles. I’m not much of a coffee drinker myself, but I do like the bottled frappuccinos and the comfy chairs offer a good view of the action. It was from this vantage point that I was captivated by today’s collection of coffee connoisseurs.

There are four soft leather chairs tucked into the short end of the L-shaped store, so I snagged some day-old newspapers out of the throw-away rack and settled in for an hour. The unshaven middle aged man next to me was slurping some white smoothie-like drink that looked rather ghastly, but then to each his own. After a while I got the sense of him staring in my direction, then realized he was trying to read the front page of the newspaper I was holding. It was only later that I noticed the red flannel pajama bottoms. I mean, what adult male goes out of the house in pajama bottoms, never mind the bright red flannel I stopped wearing before puberty? At least he wore flip flops on his feet and not pink bunny slippers.

In any case, my attention quickly shifted back to the pregnant woman and the woman standing next to her. The contrast between the two couldn’t have been sharper; where one was trim even at six or eight months of gestation, the other was severely large. Whereas the first wore a bump-enhancing form-fitting short sleeve top, short khaki shorts and running shoes, the second’s equally form-fitting cotton dress straining its seams, as did her flat shoes. It struck me how different people can be in this world.

That point was brought home by the twenty-something barista. His booming friendliness reverberated off the glass walls of the store: “Have a great day” to the pregnant woman; “Here’s your iced mocha” to the gentleman; “Sorry for the wait, what can I start for you?” to the new arrival. Such exuberance was a joy to behold. As was his white shirt and big black bow tie, a throwback to an earlier time of milkmen making home deliveries in glass bottles. A throwback in geniality and dress that nevertheless seemed incongruous to the huge jeweled ear studs that were in the process of swallowing both earlobes.

As my mind processed this panoply of personalities I wondered what had become of the older gentleman who I had so often found struggling over the daily crossword puzzle. Apparently well-traveled and military trained, I hadn’t seen him a while. The thought that I might never see him again was what convinced me to capture all of the above on my smart phone as I sat there in the Starbucks comfy chair with a view.

David J. Kent is a science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

[Daily Post]