For many years a little band of friends met every workday morning for coffee and toast at a local coffee shop. There were eight or nine of us in total, but on any given morning, maybe only a handful would show up, coming and going at different times, different days.
That kind of thing goes on in coffee shops all over the place. It’s a great custom, and often a good way to keep up with goings-on in your own community.
It’s also a great way to learn important information, such as how to get rid of groundhogs on your farm by pumping their tunnels full of liquid pig manure, or how to stay healthy by taking lecithin supplements, whatever they might be. Okay — I admit that I haven’t used either of those pieces of coffee-shop-attained advice yet, but who knows what the future might bring?
Our early morning coffee shop network was temporarily shattered when the Covid shutdown occurred back in 2020. Fortunately, my good friend Sharky came up with a solution.
He almost immediately started a Zoom group, meeting at 8:00 a.m. two mornings each week, and all of a sudden, our gossip-and-grumble group was back in business.
That continues — twice a week for 4-1/2 years computers have lit up, not only all over town, but elsewhere as some of our members live out of state. (The initial group has grown significantly.)
Topics range from trite to tremendous, from potholes to portentous public projects. We’ve celebrated birthdays, mourned tragedies, and have taken on activist roles.
Now and then, we invite experts to address our group on topics ranging from local issues to wider ranging topics. We try to stay informed, amused, enlightened and active.
“What about the economy?” you may be thinking.
“What about it?” we may reply.
“You aren’t buying coffee and toast at the local coffee shop if you are all sitting around in your pajama bottoms and slippers wearing nice shirts and blouses so it looks on camera as though you are actually dressed,” you say.
“Oh, that,” we mumble.
“Yes. That.”
“Hmmm. Well, we are buying more coffee from the grocery stores since we’re drinking more at home. Same with breakfast food,” we said.
“Shame! You’re not leaving tips for the hardworking staffs of the local coffee shops!” you said, pointing the finger of guilt right at our computer screens.
We pause as we consider your accusations.
“Aha!” said one of our very bright members. “We sometimes arrange lunch meetings with one another. Higher bills at the restaurant, bigger tips for their workers. We’re pumping vast sums of hamburger, soup, and salad money into the economy.”
“Vast sums?” you said, raising a skeptic’s eyebrow.
“Well — some sums,” we said in outed unison.
“Huh,” you said, not impressed.
“And our economic impact is spread more widely, from Illinois to Florida to Connecticut and around the Center of the Universe, also known as Southern Michigan!” we counter.
“Yeah, sure,” you said, raising your other eyebrow.
“We aren’t polluting the air by driving to coffee shops,” we said.
“You’re using more fuel to heat your homes at 8:00 in the morning and to provide billions of electrons to your computers,” you said.
“Oh, shut up,” we said silently in our collective brain. “And you can be sure YOU’LL never be invited to join us!”
Aloud, we shout, “But we’re having fun!”
“In that case, okay then,” you concede, finally lowering both eyebrows.
— Jim Whitehouse lives in Albion.