First Fridays

1 Sacred Grounds A slice of a European patisserie provides a warm welcome, a comfortable cozy corner to read, write or engage in the stimulating art of conversation. Pastries are featured from local bakeries displayed in a glass enclosed case. The sugary delights range from small, round, individually sized coffee cakes to bear claws and sugar cookies. Spanning the open-air space is a serpentine-shaped coffee bar where individuals and pairs of patrons consume caffeinated creations. Suddenly, the overhead sound system belts out Leslie Gore singing “You Don’t Own Me,” a throwback artist from a bygone era. The black-clad baristas, adorned with nose and eyebrow rings, indicate that this place is far from retro. Lattes and sub-Saharan featured specialty coffees announce that the menu caters to a wide range of coffee connoisseurs. My friend Paul favored the Ethiopian Harar bean, a strong, bold flavor with hints of berry chocolate, a taste that brings him back to the Peace Corps and his stint in Ethiopia during the 1960s. Large ceramic cups of latte feature the artistry of a labyrinthian cream design topping the hot, black liquid. A variety individuals and groups have settled into their chairs or coffee bar stools. The computer guy is here, no longer annoying me with his buddies long gone and conducting his business against the back wall. The retired men’s group has come and gone. The Wall Street Journal reader is nowhere to be seen. The loud church leader from the Evangelical Church must have moved on or is settling into a new meeting place. The mother, who flirts with the male barista, and her son are off to school. An elderly woman, dressed in a plaid coat and black jeans, leans on the counter awaiting her order while two twenty-something females meet to enjoy a casual conversation before beginning their workdays. Sacred Grounds, our host for the past few years, is an independently owned community gathering place dedicated to promoting conversation and commerce. The place has a vibrant feeling with 1950s and 1960s records spun over its sound system. The music caters to the age of its patrons who find comfort and familiarity in its friendly environs. Coffee is the mainstay on the limited menu of pastries and breakfast sandwiches. A chalk board of roasted beans features coffees from distant parts of the world from Africa to South America. But their house blend is the calling card which is served by the cup or bag of ground beans. Tables are scattered throughout the L-shaped room where it is common for patrons to park and stay for hours chatting with friends, studying, or engaging in commerce as independent entrepreneurs or home-bound sales representatives. But for Paul and me, our purpose was personal. We met as travelers on spiritual journeys. Our destination was uncertain, but we drank coffee together to illuminate the road ahead and be a walking stick along the way. My journal keeps me occupied as the music changes to country and western muffling the conversations around the room. As I sit waiting for inspiration, my eye catches a print near the rest rooms at the far side of the space. It’s a portrait of a silver-bearded gentleman dressed in a blue flannel shirt engaged in thought, fingers intertwined, held at his forehead as if in prayer. A loaf of bread, a cup of soup and a voluminous book sit on the table with reading glasses resting on top of the volume. I identify with this man, engaged in thoughtful contemplation, giving thanks, pondering a dilemma, or resting before he consumes the meal. As I study this interesting looking man, I wonder if he is giving thanks for the meagre food and drink in front of him. Could he be taking a moment of silent thought after dealing with a traumatic event? Or perhaps he is homeless and has at last found a place to rest and gather his thoughts about the day ahead. On each occasion when I visit, I’m struck by something new and different that catches my eye or delights my senses. Today it was the portrait, another day it was the framed burlap bags of Orangutan and Rosebud Atlas coffee bags. On another occasion it was the coffee bar design manufactured in the shape of a question mark lying on its side. The clientele here continues to arrive, to spend time reading, writing, or visiting and then moves on. It was in this setting where Paul and I met each First Friday of the month. It was here where he challenged my entrenched belief system and allowed me to grow and mature in my faith and spirituality. Our conversations sparked curiosity and exploration, daring to think radical thoughts and pursue theories previously unexplored. This was sacred ground. I wanted to remove my shoes and show reverence for the divine presence that joined us on those days. During the ordinary, I discovered the sublime. Seated among retirees and students, I was humbled by the knowledge that was exchanged. Among the aroma of coffee beans and sweet desserts, I tasted the sweetness of the divine. What drew me to this place was the unhurried atmosphere it created. It was the launching pad for busy days at the office. For those engaged in sales and marketing, it provided the jolt of caffeine needed to initiate cold calls and follow up with new prospects. For me, it was an oasis between home and work where I prepared for my day, listed donors who I needed to reach and tie up loose ends remembering who was depending on me to provide information or make decisions on current projects. Because it was a local coffee shop, I frequently encountered friends, fellow church members, and local entrepreneurs doing what I was doing, preparing for the day, and meeting others in a delightful, upbeat atmosphere. There was always a woman’s bible study sequestered around a small table with heads bowed, consulting scriptural passages, and smiling at the occasional insight that was shared or bursting into laughter for reasons known only to them. The vibe was upbeat but unhurried so that a group of grey-bearded retirees expanded and contracted during the morning rush hour. They could be heard retelling war stories, sharing experiences about spouses, and catching up on sports and local events. It was a special place, an organic conglomeration of friends and colleagues that helped the coffee house earned its ubiquitous name, Sacred Grounds. The coffee house was created by its owners, a local couple, who wanted to provide good coffee products with delectable desserts and sandwiches for the local community. This was their dream, together with an open, friendly atmosphere that would nurture conversation and provide a meeting and gathering location for residents of the surrounding community.