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Larry

Thursday, May 27th, 2010

Playing with coffee grinds made for a fun job. I loved the abstract designs I could form in latte foam. The whoosh of the milk steamer still makes me smile.

My love of coffee grew when I worked as a barista. The Coffee Pub was a ministry started by my church, a community of people together in a safe space bonded by the comfort of coffee mugs. It wasn’t a place to give out tracts or quote Bible verses. We would simply open our doors and serve people, and maybe love on them a little.

I had favorite customers, the usuals that showed up every day. Larry was the first one in the door, right at 6:30 a.m. He’d roll in the door with a big smile and a hearty “Good morning!” And I literally mean roll. Larry was in a wheelchair.

He’d pull up to the counter, and we’d have his coffee ready. I knew his order well, medium coffee in a large cup, 3/4 coffee, 1/4 hot water. He’d pay, leave a dollar tip, sometimes more, and then load up his drink with cream and sugar.

Outside the double doors, Ruth stood, steaming up the glass with her doggy breath. She obediently waited for her daddy to return, and then walked by his side, her little Corgi legs struggling to keep up. They parked themselves at their usual outside table for an hour or more. Larry enjoyed his coffee and an occasional cigarette. Friends joined him now and again, but often it was just him and his faithful Ruth. This was his daily ritual, even on rainy and cold mornings.

Larry intrigued me. In other circumstances, I would have been scared to approach him. He was a little rough around the edges, a bit coarse. But seeing him day after day revealed more then the tough exterior. He became for me exactly what the Coffee Pub stood for: people that needed a little love.

It was obvious how much his precious Ruth meant to him. One morning, I left a bag of dog treats on their usual table, with a note that said, “For Ruth.”

I watched him through the window as he pulled up to the table. A huge smile broke out, and he lowered the bag to Ruth’s eye level, excitedly showing her. He came in that morning, loudly thanking me and telling other customers about it. Knowing Larry, he probably threw an extra dollar in the tip jar that day.

After that, Ruth began to follow him inside. She was perfectly well behaved, and the other regulars loved her. I kept a box of Milk Bones in the back room, and each day Ruth peered over the counter at me, and then angled her head toward the back. She knew where the good stuff was.

Larry opened up a little more, and one day shared pictures from a trip he’d taken to the Bahamas. On slow mornings, I’d walk outside and talk. He seemed to enjoy the company.

Over time, the Coffee Pub changed management. A new church took over the ministry, and it became Redeye. On the first day Redeye was open, Larry was there. I was glad to see him again, but noticed he was alone. I was terribly saddened to hear that Ruth had passed away. Eerily enough, she died the day after the Coffee Pub closed.

Without Ruth, he began to drink his coffee inside. He chatted with the other regulars and watched customers as they came and went. One particularly slow morning, he seemed depressed. I started a conversation, and he casually mentioned some things that were troubling him. He was quick to add, “But I’m okay!” His smile covered his face, but I could tell this one was fake.

I softly said, “I don’t think you are.”

His smile faltered a bit, then he sighed. For the next ten to fifteen minutes, he opened up. I let him process some things out loud, and he looked at me and quietly said, “Thank you.”

My season as a barista soon drew to a close, and my last day came and went. I planned to come back and have coffee with Larry. Unfortunately, the new job took up much of my time and energy, and I never did get back for more than a quick coffee to go.

Months later, I asked one of the baristas if Larry was still coming. He replied that he hadn’t seen him in awhile. I prayed that God would let us cross paths again.

That didn’t happen. One day I found a message in my Facebook inbox. Larry had passed away. I was sad to learn that I had missed his funeral, but was encouraged to hear that the Coffee Pub was mentioned during the service. This ministry that my church took a chance on did what it set out to do. The Coffee Pub taught me how to love people in unique ways. It provided a safe place for a man to come each day. Larry was not a Christian, and I know he was surprised to find that his favorite coffee shop was run by a bunch of Jesus lovers. I found out that I was not the only barista that he opened up to.

I like to think that we made a difference in Larry’s life. We brought him more than just good coffee.

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Freecycling

Sunday, May 23rd, 2010

I am an unashamed dumpster diver. Or, as Drew prefers: freecycling. I am beginning to feel as is my entire house is going to be furnished in freecycled materials.

I say I’m unashamed, but that’s not entirely true. Although I have no problem with bringing used items into my home, I often feel a bit embarrassed standing out by someone’s curb, peering through their trash pile. It’s like I’m expecting the people to come charging out of their house, demanding we step away from their stuff. But they never do. If it’s sitting by the trash can, it’s up for grabs. They have relinquished control over their stuff by setting it out by the curb.

Drew is completely unashamed. He walks right up and starts excitedly rifling through the pile and inspecting stuff, while I stand behind him, glancing around as if I’m the lookout or something. Perhaps I’m a bit more nervous now since we’ve moved to a more upscale neighborhood. Although not ritzy, it’s a far cry from our ghetto duplex-filled neighborhood. Dumpster diving was expected in that neighborhood. Now, I feel like neighbors are looking out the window, shaking their heads. “Honey, those people are at it again…”

Really, there is no shame in freecycling. As the old saying goes, “One’s person trash is another person’s treasure.” What our neighbor is desperately sick of in their house is pure excitement as we pull it into ours. One less thing in the landfill, which is always a good thing. We’re just doing our part to help the environment.

When we took Dave Ramsey‘s Financial Peace University last year, this was a topic he touched on. Sort of. Basically, he said that it never hurts to ask, “Hey, can I have that?” You can come across all sorts of free stuff this way. It’s a great money saver. Although we’re not exactly asking as we race toward home with our free loot, it’s basically the same concept.

One of our mismatched night-stands was from a neighbor who was moving away and cleaning house. It’s ghetto and not so nice, but it’s functional. It will serve it’s purpose until we can save enough money to buy a nice bedroom set. We also picked up a perfectly good CD player, again from a neighbor that was cleaning house. This time we did actually ask, because the woman was outside when we walked by. Her response was basically, “Please, take it!” We even offered her money and she refused it. This should encourage me in knowing that our neighbors are not judging us for freecycling.

Just this week, I encountered a cute little floor mat in the trash room at work. Someone had laid it across the recycling bin, so it wasn’t in the trash can, covered in nastiness. I picked it up and inspected it. It matched my kitchen and dining room theme perfectly, so I took it home and washed it. Now it’s on the floor of my kitchen, proudly displaying it’s coffee grandeur.

Just this evening, as Drew and I were coming home, we noticed our neighbor had some chairs out by his trash that looked to be in pretty good shape. We casually walked out to inspect them (me still standing guard) and Drew decided he could rearrange legs to make two decent chairs. We dragged all three of them into the living room, and he did his handyman miracle and created two great chairs. Voila. We’ve been looking for a chair to put in our front bedroom. Done!

One of our greatest free-cycling stories is our free keyboard. A music school had problems getting the sound to work, and they were going to junk it. They offered it to Drew, and in about 45 minutes he had it fixed. Woo hoo!

Our new chair serving as a bench at our free piano... until I find a piano bench on the side of the road

Anyone else have any great dumpster diving stories?

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Saying goodbye to music lessons

Wednesday, May 19th, 2010

While attending college, I often received the same question from many people:

“What’s your major?”

When I responded, “Music,” the follow up question was usually the same.

“Are you going to teach?”

For so many, this is the only logical career choice for music. I suppose this is the same for many areas of study, such as English or history. I would hate being asked this question, because teaching was just about the furthest thing from my mind. I wasn’t entirely sure of my career choice at the time; I just knew I wanted to do something in music, and I eventually settled on a Church Music certificate to go with my BA in music. Although that certificate hasn’t proved entirely useful, a diploma in Music from Florida State University has. That paper is proudly on display in my music room.

Since graduating, finding a career has been a tricky thing. I ended up spending three years volunteering, luckily using some of the skills I acquired during my time at FSU. And what did I do? I was a music teacher for a bunch of African kiddos. Since I was combining it with my love of mission work, it didn’t feel so much like teaching. It was more an incredible opportunity.

Coming off that whirlwind experience, I came home and got the job that any aspiring musician would get: barista. I spent a wonderful year and a half making frothy lattes, and to supplement my income, I took another job as, guess what??? A music teacher! So much for not teaching…

It truly does seem that the only way to make any money as a musician is by teaching others. I resigned myself to that, and began giving guitar lessons to young children at a local music school. I began to get into it, and even learned some about guitar along the way. I have found that I am a good teacher. I discovered ways to explain musical concepts to children, and creative approaches to reinforce those concepts. One of my students is quite a budding composer, and grasped the concept of matching a melody (that he had written) with chords rather quickly. He’ll be performing his debut piece this Sunday at his recital. I’m quite proud.

However, as much as I grew into the role of teacher, I think I began to grow out of it. When I took a new job at a retirement community, I found I had less and less time to devote to coming up with creative teaching techniques. Although the extra money was nice, the time spent traveling across town two days a week for lessons was starting to take a toll. With less and less energy, I felt that my students weren’t receiving the attention that they deserved for their blossoming musical talents. After a talk with Drew and a look over our budget, we decided that the time had come to wrap up the music lessons. After next week, I will be a music teacher no more.

I am a bit sad about it, especially after two very successful lessons this week. But I am thankful for the extra time I will have, to devote more to housework and meal planning, and hopefully loving on my husband a bit more. I hope to also give more energy and brain power to my day job.

Perhaps with more spare time, I will be able to develop other aspects of my musicality, such as performance, and perhaps songwriting, a craft I’ve dabbled in and always wanted to pursue more. Stay tuned…

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My job

Monday, May 17th, 2010

At my job, I have the pleasure of working with some wonderful elderly people. It’s not like spending everyday at Grandma’s, getting fresh baked cookies and newly knitted scarves all the time. Some days are stressful, as I’m finding not all seniors are sweet little grandparents. Some days are especially hard, as I watch some residents slip away mentally, and others slip away all together. Death is always a looming possibility at my job, and it’s hard to not get too attached.

On the whole, my job is a lot of fun. I play games and plan parties. I get to use my music and do sing-a-longs and direct a handbell choir with tone chimes. One of the best parts of my job has been watching the Gangsta Grannies evolve. Now, if you haven’t heard of or seen them, I simply can’t explain it. You must click on the link I attached and watch it.

Now that you’ve had a good laugh and are feeling great having watched that, let me share some of the things I’ve learned by working with sweet ladies such as Tiger Lily, Bloody Mary, and Butterfly (those are their stage gangsta names…). I have seen what it means to truly live life to the fullest. I see all kinds of seniors at my job. I see those that are healthy, happy, and fulfilled, even way into their 90s. I see those that exercise every morning and keep working the physical parts that they have. They may not be as limber or as energetic as they once were, but they’re working with what they have and they are an inspiration to me.

The other kind I see are those that seemed to have given up. They seem to live in the past, wishing they were still young, agile, and fit. I see residents whose vision and hearing is faltering, and they obsess over it. Every time I see them, they tell me how they can’t see very well. Now, I know that for some this is a memory thing, and I try to patiently listen every time they tell me this for the first time. But for some, I think it’s that they can’t seem to move past it. They can’t get over the fact that they can’t see/hear/move well anymore. I understand that it must be the most frustrating thing in the world. But I also feel that it’s something you need to learn to live with, and work through. This is what you have at the moment, so use it. Move past it, and figure out how to live your life to the fullest in your current capacity.

Now, I understand this is easy for me to say, still being young and relatively spry. But I feel that I am learning lessons that I hope to carry on into my senior years. I am learning how important it is to take care of myself now. I am being more diligent about eating right and exercising regularly. When I grow up, I want to be a Gangsta Granny… someone who is enjoying life and showing the world how fun the senior years can be.

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