coffee with mcabee

I love coffee.  I love the smell, I love the taste, I love the caffeine.  I have a "coffee cabinet" at home where I keep all my coffee and just opening the cabinet door makes my mouth water.  It smells comfortable and warm.  For the record, iced coffee is not really coffee.  Coffee is hot.  There's no reason to discuss this.  

But one of my favorite things about coffee is that it is a social drink.  I know the saying is "in vino veritas" (in wine there is truth) but there's something about the nature of coffee that brings out a genuine communicative spirit in people...without all the silliness that alcohol can bring.  If you need proof that coffee is magic, just know that coffee is the special elixir that makes even a hermit like me want to sit down in a public space with people and have a conversation.  

Stealing a great idea from Jerry Seinfeld, I've created my own little series of "Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee".  Except I'm no comedian and the car thing rarely works out because I mostly meet people for coffee.  In the past few months I've had conversation and coffee with Kevin Morrissey, a superstar high school art teacher from Summerville, Ali Stigal, my first sculpture studio student worker from Lander, Ashley "the whisk" Bush, a former student and racquetball buddy, Donovan, professor of religion at Belmont University, G, my lovely wife and several others. And each time I got to enjoy some good coffee and some good company.  

Some of these coffee sessions have popped up on my Instagram but I keep thinking that there's something really cool about these people that you don't get to know because you weren't there.  And Instagram doesn't really lend itself to lengthy stories under the photos because who really has time to read all that crap when you're trying to scroll through everything new in your feed before you fall asleep at night?  So I've thought about creating a space for those coffee talks here.  It's an excuse to write more often and a way to introduce you to some of the really exceptional people I'm lucky enough to trick into getting coffee with me.  So grab yourself a coffee and read on...

Let me introduce you to this week's "Coffee With McAbee" gang.  Left to right is Armir, Laura and Katherine.

Armir is one of those people you run across in life and you just know he's a good human.  He's professional, helpful, thoughtful and he's a natural leader.  I think I've known Armir forever.  He wont see this post but if he did he would think that was funny because his path through his degree has not been a traditional one.  Armir is in the Air Force reserve and he's been called up a couple of times while he's been an art major at Lander.  This means Uncle Sam has pulled him away for some travel to exotic places and delayed his 4 year plans.  So I met him as a freshman 7 or 8 years ago.  Then he came back.  Then he spent some time in the sand and now he's back again to finish up.  

Last semester was his first semester back and we worked about an hour once each week into our schedules for coffee at the on-campus Starbucks.  We have always enjoyed a very honest dialog and that's one of the things that makes you want to be around him.  We also share some "basic" taste in coffee so we make sure to have all the fancy, sweet coffees and we dare anyone to make fun of us.  Then we share advice and funny stories and talk about how great our salted caramel mochas are.  

This semester doesn't allow us quite as much time but we've carved out 30 minutes and we even invited some other people to join us.

Which brings us to Laura.  Laura is from the town I live in and we both have the same daily commute to Lander.  I met Laura when she came in as a freshman art major.  I taught her, watched her graduate and then became a coworker with her when she joined the university as a photographer.  She still comes to some of our art events and she even slogs with us pretty often too.  Twice this week we've driven behind one another on the drive in to work.  Laura is also an honest and awesome person.  She babysat Blue and Violet several times, took some family portraits for us and she's been brave enough to dog-sit a few times.  If I trust you with my kids and dogs....that's really saying something.  Laura is good people.  Like Armir, she speaks her mind and you can count on her telling you the truth.  She also loves people.  The real kind of love that causes you to spend your vacation days from work traveling to Haiti to serve others.  But maybe don't tell anyone that Laura has coffee talk with us because I don't know if her boss knows!

The lady on the right is Katherine.  She's one of my current students and one of my current sculpture studio workers.  She's in our BFA degree and she's been a standout student since the first project in my 3D Design class.  A year ago she had never even seriously considered sculpture as something she'd want to do and now she's well on her way to being a professional sculptress.  She is an honest and trustworthy person (notice the pattern here?) as well.  And despite the fact that she's prone to enjoy a coffee with ice in it every now and then, she's really fun to talk to about art.  When you ask her to consider a work of art or an idea about art, she will take that as the most serious challenge in her life.  She will devote herself to really taking it apart and analyzing the concept before providing a well-thought-out critique of it.  She's just as serious about her projects and she really devotes herself to them.  Last semester she logged the most hours per week in the sculpture studio by a ridiculous amount.  

So these three coffee pals are from three different time periods and we all somehow came together over coffee.  While they are all honest, genuine and trusted people, perhaps the most important character trait to me is that they all enjoy a good laugh.  When you're starting your day, or perhaps looking for a friend to hang out with, there's just nothing like a good jolt of sugar and caffeine and a good laugh.  If you're lucky enough to be near these three humans, make it your goal to become their friend.  You will be a better person for knowing them.  

And if you like coffee and don't mind me, I'm always looking for more excuses to drink extra coffee.  Email me.

layla, the pope of coffee

A few weeks ago I got to tag along with G to a nurse conference in Tampa.  You can read about that if you scroll down a while.  The trip was interesting because we had never been to Tampa and we planned a few adventures there, but it was also interesting because I was feeling the pain of the hernia, especially in the afternoons and walking wasn't something I was doing a lot of at the time.  After hours of driving, my body didn't want to walk miles around the downtown area exploring.  Of course, I did anyway, but not as much as I would have normally.  

So on these types of trips, G has to get up early and go sit in on conference sessions most of the day, which leaves me to go around doing art things alone.  One of the traditions I enjoy on these trips is finding a place to have coffee and breakfast each morning.  I take my sketchbook and camp out for a while.  It's a great time to watch people, especially when a country bumpkin like me goes into a downtown city area.  I usually sit and enjoy my coffee while drawing the people or other random things.  

On the first morning in Tampa, the only coffee shop I could find on the map app was the Starbucks in the hotel lobby.  Now here's where we'll have to agree to disagree.  Starbucks is the Walmart of coffee.  OK, maybe it's the Target of coffee.  But only if it's a good day with the right person making the coffee.  Oh yes, I drink it and happily so if it's the only thing I can find, but in general, their coffee drinks taste burnt and it's really hit or miss with how the coffee is mixed.  I do love plain coffee with sugar but each morning I need as many ounces as possible of a Café Mocha to get my blood sufficiently sweetened.  And honestly when I order it and they ask me if I want it hot...that just irritates me.  It's coffee.  Of course I want it hot.  I didn't order a milkshake.  (No offense to the 90% of you who drink those iced coffee drinks)  You may get irritated by having to press 1 for English, I get irritated by having to specify that I do, in fact, want my coffee hot.  And I'm the old guy who still refuses to order the size in whatever vocabulary Starbucks is trying to fancy their place up with.  I want a LARGE.  I don't care what it means in Italian.  We're in a chain coffee joint in a strip mall in the South.  It's a small, medium or large.  Or maybe even "a big'un" if you're in the right town.  But all that aside, like Walmart (or Target), you can expect to get the same basic thing if you're in California, South Carolina, the campus shop at school or even Tampa.  So I waited in the very long line of nurses getting their cup before the conference and I sat at a tiny table.  I ate a frozen sandwich thing and drank my large white chocolate mocha.  It was all average as expected.

Exploring town a little more that afternoon, I found a little breakfast place called "Moxie's".  I decided they probably had better coffee than Walbucks and the atmosphere certainly seemed cozier.  The next morning I walked down and found my way in the door.  I was immediately greeted by at least two voices from behind the counter.  I felt like I was in Waffle House.  I was there for coffee and I found that quickly on the menu but I hadn't really thought out my food order.  I was making it up completely on the spot at the register, without even looking at the choices.  I saw a waffle and asked for one.  Then, asked for chocolate chips in it and got a "now you're talkin'" from the cashier.  I liked the place.  I was a stranger and I had been accepted.  

I took my seat by the front window, but opted to turn my back to the window so I could observe the interior and it's occupants.  There was a solo dude at the table beside me working on business.  The table behind him had a trio there on business.  They made small talk and I'm pretty sure one of the ladies was flirting with the dude.  An older couple sat behind them silent.  I lost interest the farther away people sat.  People would walk in the door and they'd be greeted by their first name.  I thought that was kind of cool.  I started to realize I was in a local favorite spot where people would come in before work or during a break every weekday.  I also noted that the person doing most of the greeting and first name remembering was the young lady making the coffee.  There were some kitchen dudes and a cashier who did several things, but only one person was in charge of the coffee.  Every coffee ordered went through her.  There was another young lady who would walk the food and drinks out to the tables.  

I started drawing in my sketchbook while I waited for my waffle and coffee.  This is what I drew...

The lady with the glasses was the one flirting with the dude.

Soon, I looked up to find the barista walking toward my table with my coffee.  She sat it on my table and said, "I'm sorry it took a little longer.  It looked so good I had to take a picture of it before I brought it."  She smiled and I admitted that it was a very good looking coffee before thanking her.  

 That's the coffee as it was delivered.  It was perfect.  I mean, it looked great, but it tasted perfect.  It was a vanilla mocha latte and if I'm honest, it may have been better than the ones I make at home.  I guess maybe I should have mentioned that in the Starbucks paragraph, but I make a really great coffee at home.  When I go to a coffee shop, they really have to be great to live up to my expectations.  I know plenty of people who work at Starbucks and I know you think you're the exception but I promise you're not.  This is not an insult.  I know you're following your recipe like you should, it's just that your recipe isn't as great as mine.  No big deal.  We can still be friends.  

But that coffee.  It was so good.  So good I can barely remember the really high quality waffle I ate.  So good I ordered another before I left.  It was really, really good.  

As I savored the coffee, I started to pay more attention to the coffee maker.  After people would order their coffee to go, they would come around to the end of the counter where the coffee syrups were and they'd talk to the barista.  Not like small talk, but really talking like they knew each other.  She talked to them like she was really interested in their lives.  I started to think about how this affected the customers.  It was affecting me, first of all.  They made me feel at home when I came in.  But it was also making the customers feel like family, making them want to come in again the next day.  People would walk in the door with morning face and when the barista would call them by name, they'd perk up and smile.  It was fun to watch.  

When I go on trips like this with G, I try to take some kind of thick paper scraps to draw little messages on to leave for strangers.  Sometimes it's "you are beautiful" taken from the You Are Beautiful international sticker campaign or sometimes I improvise with something nice on the spot.  It takes only a couple of minutes but it can make a big impact on someone's day.  It gives me something to do while I wait for G to get out of the conference.

I flipped through my sketchbook and realized I failed to put the strips of Bristol paper in there.  But I was inspired so I grabbed a napkin and quickly sketched out some words and wrote "thanks for the coffee" and handed it to the barista as I headed out the door.  This is the way these scenes end and it's probably why I enjoy doing it.  I get to make someone smile, but it's pretty hands off and I don't have to feel any emotions.  I hand them a paper and walk away to never see them again.  It's very me.  

But dang that was great coffee.  And I had one more morning in Tampa.  And she probably wouldn't be there two mornings in a row, right?  And even if she was, there's no way she would remember a stranger.  And I could wear a hat.  I'd be invisible.  

So I walked to Moxie's again the next morning.  I got the common greeting when I walked in the door but no one seemed to recognize me.  It was all going according to plan.  I ordered my coffee and a new breakfast and took my seat unnoticed.  I was invisible.  There was an older couple at the table beside me and I gathered that she was a nurse and he was tagging along just like me.  Behind him there was an annoying table of people having a business meeting.  They used every cliche statement you have ever heard in your life.  It was like bad TV.  Behind them a younger couple came in and took seats trying to decide if they were "here or to go" people.  

I started sketching and writing a recap of the day before and I looked up when I felt someone close.  

The barista was standing at my table with another magnificent coffee.  She placed the coffee on the table and she handed me her phone.  This is not normal, right?  Then I realized I was busted.  She recognized me.  She said, "Hi, I'm Layla.  And you're...Doug?"

Then she explained to me that the day before she was having a particularly crappy morning and that when she got my little drawing it turned her day around.  She said that she was so moved by it that she posted something about it on Facebook and that she never does things like that.  She had placed her phone right in front of me and had the Facebook post pulled up so I could read it.  There was the photo of the coffee that she took (that's her photo above) and a photo of the drawing and a nice little paragraph thanking the "random stranger". 

We talked for a minute and she left me to my breakfast.  I thought about how she had taken the nice thing and used it as fuel to be nice to other people.  She had multiplied it.  This was something she offered to people every single day by saying "good morning" and calling them by name.  She probably has no idea what a difference that small thing makes in those people's lives.  

Layla is one of those people you instantly know you could hang out with.  She has a positive energy and a personality that is giving instead of taking.  When I was ready to leave I walked up to the coffee counter and thanked her for sharing her post with me and for another excellent coffee.  We talked for a couple of minutes and it turns out her parents just moved to South Carolina so she was familiar with the area I was from.  We shook hands and parted ways with a smile.

Sometimes when I'm walking on campus I'll pass a stranger and smile or say "good morning" and I'll wonder what that person is dealing with at that moment.  Did they get dumped the day before?  Do they have a sick parent?  Did they come to school so anxiety ridden that they were sick?  And did that smile make any of it any better?  You just can't tell by looking at them.  It seems to me that the best approach is to be nice to everyone as often as you are able.  If they're having a great day, you might make it even better.  If they're having a tragic day, your smile might be the only good thing that happens to them.  Within us each day, we have the power to make people happy or to make people sad.  I wonder if Layla knows how many lives she has touched in a positive way just by going to work every day.  

If you're ever in Tampa, check out Moxie's at 514 N Tampa St and look for Layla.  You'll leave a better person.

sixty six thousand miles

I need to be drawing.  I haven't started a large drawing in a while and the ideas are welling up.  Since winter break I've been reading and doing a lot of planning for all the crazyness that comes with the spring semester.  Art hikes, Sculpture Deathmatches, new projects and such.  And spring has been confusing here.  It was cold, then it was warm, even really warm for a few weeks.  Then spring break came and it was cold again.  It's warmed up a little again but I've still had to wear a jacket and something on my head each morning and that's not normal for April in the South.  

When it warmed up the first time, nature thought winter was done and things started blooming.  My cherry tree started to bloom and then it got cold again.  You could almost see the surprised look on the tree as the first blooms just sort of hung out there waiting on more.  It was weeks before the other blooms emerged.  I was slogging with my art crew yesterday and in the warm late afternoon the pollen was wafting through the breeze.  We ran by a particularly harsh flowery smell and I looked around to see what it was.  Across the street to my left there was a curtain of wisteria hanging from a tree in full bloom.  

Wisteria.  It reminded me of something.  Oddly enough it was a song I don't think I've ever heard.  

My hometown is Sparkle City.  Spartanburg on the map but since every city needs a hip street name, it's Hub City, Sparkle City or if you watch the news it's often Murderburg.  That last one is mostly a joke.  Mostly.  Like any city worth it's salt, Spartanburg has a Krispy Kreme.  It kinda has two really.  The original one is pictured in these photos.  It was the beatnik looking building with the cool sign by the road.

 The franchise is owned by Glenn Reese, a local politician and the father of one of my school friends, David.  David and I were in 1st grade together and we graduated together.  He never brought me free doughnuts though.  

A few years ago the franchise moved literally just across the street to a new building that I'm sure proved to be more modern and better for making the doughnuts but the new brick rectangle building lacks the visual appeal of the old A-frame beauty.

Blue, Violet and I had a few minutes to kill on Easter Sunday so we dropped in to have a couple of Easter doughnuts.  We grabbed a stool at the countertop by the window looking out over the classy old abandoned building across the street.  These stools were not the same.  This countertop was not as cool.  So we went across the street to show the kids what a real doughnut shop should look like.

 That's the countertop I sat at back in the day.  Those are real doughnut stools.  That cash register was never connected to wifi.  

 People who were eating a doughnut with a friend and only staying a few minutes would sit at those first seven stools with their backs to the parking lot.  These were quick turnover seats.

 The side stools (right) and the back stools (below) were for the relaxers and the people watchers.  These people were having coffee, maybe no doughnuts and they were going to be a while.  With their eyes on the door and on the quick turnover seats, they observed everyone who entered.  They listened to orders and conversations.  They were mostly quiet, though sometimes they'd whisper to other patrons in the same section.  

 One night my friend John Mills and I went for a doughnut and a coffee.  This was back before Starbucks took over the world.  We decided to sit in the observer section and see what life was like there.  See that stool in the photo above?  There was a guy sitting in that spot with his lady friend beside him.  He had a long droopy mustache and a mullet sticking out from under one of those white ship's captain's hats.  He was missing a tooth.  Probably more than one but the one I remember was right there in the front.  His tooth vacancy didn't stop him from smiling a big, happy smile at me when I sat down.  

Those of us who hate social situations know that smile.  It means, "I'm going to talk to you".  And he did.  Immediately.  He asked where I was from and what I did.  He interrogated both of us as if he was checking to see if we qualified for the "stay a while seats".  I was in a good mood so I played along, returning fire, question for question.  He was just passing through on his way to Florida with his girlfriend.  I don't think he ever used the word girlfriend though.  He called her by some kind of sweet hippie-ish nickname and she smiled quietly through the parting of her long frizzy hair.  She looked at him as if she was in orbit around him.  She appeared completely enamored by his presence.  Either that or she was high, which I realized soon was a distinct possibility.  

At sentence two I knew he was a space cadet.  His language gave him away as a hippie but in the mid 1990s it was cool to be a leftover hippie.  I tried really hard not to focus my eyes on the hole in his tooth-line as he spoke.  He made hard, intense eye contact and smiled his sentences out of his mouth.  He told us that he met his lady friend at a summer festival where he was playing guitar in the street.  He was playing a song called "Wisteria" and she came out of the crowd and danced in front of him in the rain while he played.  He told us that at that moment he knew they were destined to be together.  

 John and I were thrilled to find such entertainment on our first visit to the slow seats.  We laughed and smiled as he talked and we tried to commit his face and his stories to memory on the spot, almost as if we knew this was a significant moment.  We knew that when we left Krispy Kreme that night we'd never see this man again.  He had stories of picking fruit on farms and traveling across the country for music festivals.  He talked about concerts and his favorite jam bands.  None of this was surprising or noteworthy.  It seemed like small talk coming from someone that could easily have started a cult with his magnetic personality.  His excitement started to rise as he told us stories and shared his "wisdom" with us younger folks.  And that's when he said it.

A story ended and there was a pause.  He took his mug in his hand and raised it to his lips.  I could imagine the steaming black coffee passing through the void of the missing tooth and racing down this throat.  I'm sorry, it's just how I am.  He stared blankly over the counter.  We looked over at him to see if we were done.  To see if it was time for us to leave.  He sat his mug down on the formica counter and the sparkle had returned to his eyes.  He locked eyes with me and he said...

"Do you ever just stop and think about how crazy it all is, man?  I mean, right now we are sitting here at this counter and we're moving at 66,000 miles per hour.  Isn't that crazy?"

I broke eye contact long enough to turn my head over to John.  John has a big brain but he didn't know the answer to this riddle either.  I looked back at the hippie guy and he continued.

"Like, we're on this planet right now and while it feels like we're sitting still, we're really flying through space at 66,000 miles per hour around a big flaming star we call the Sun.  And then if you think about it, that's just in our solar system.  We're also traveling through the universe at an even higher speed."

Again, I looked to John who raised his eyebrows and slightly nodded that this could be scientifically close to true.  I turned back to the sparkling eyes.

"And in a universe so vast and intricate and on a planet so large and full of billions of people, we stopped here tonight for a cup of coffee to keep us awake for the drive and we meet two beautiful souls like you.  It's just crazy, man.  Crazy."

You wanna know what's crazy?  In those early days of the interwebs, we took the time to look it up in actual books and the hippie guy was right.  Right now while you're reading this you're moving 30 kilometers per second or roughly 67,000 miles per hour.  He was off 1,000 miles per hour but come on, that's pretty spot on for a traveling hippie guitar player.  If you're into that sort of fact checking, the solar system is also moving at about 514,000 miles per hour.  He didn't have a number for that but he was still correct.

He was also correct about the last part.  It seemed like a spur of the moment decision to sit at the slow side of the counter.  The Krispy Kreme sits a good ways from any interstate so I'm not sure how the hippie couple found their way there.  The odds of the four of us meeting had to be something very lottery-esque.  If you're the kind of person who believes in coincidence, that's a decent coincidence.  I'm the kind of person who believes things happen for a reason.  When people meet, there's something to be learned or exchanged.  There's a chance for someone to help or be helped.  Maybe the people on the slow turnover stools understood this about life.  

I have moments where I realize I'm lucky to have young humans rolling into my life for 4 year periods of time in my classes.  In those moments I think about the things I say and do and how those things may be remembered by that one individual for the rest of their life.  I realize that 20 years from now I'll be the weird hippie guy in someone else's story.  Crazy man, crazy.

Hey Krispy Kreme, that original building is in good shape.  The coffee maker looks like it still works.  Your doughnuts are great but your new building doesn't foster stranger conversations.  The old sign still works, open that register back up and I bet the hipsters would stand in line to sit at the old countertop.  And Mr. Starbucks, maybe consider putting in some formica countertops and stools and tossing those tables out.  Maybe take out the plug ins and charging stations as well.  Turn off the wifi.  What if all those frappe-whatever drinkers actually started making eye contact and socializing with people they've never met?  If you do it, I'll buy an old captain's hat and meet you there.

coffee talk

For a few years, comedian Jerry Seinfeld quietly went about making an interesting series of videos.  After ending his sitcom he had lived his life laying low and doing comedy when he wanted.  Then he had the idea to record himself going to coffee with several of his comedian friends.  The show “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee” was very straightforward.  Seinfeld would pick a car that had something in common with his guest and he’d pick them up and drive them to get coffee.  They’d talk in the car, while walking to the restaurant and during coffee or breakfast.  The whole premise is sitting down and having two people engage in conversation across a table.

I’m completely addicted to this show now.  It doesn’t matter who the guest is or if I even like them, I love watching the two people have coffee and laugh together for 15 minutes.  There's something so genuinely wonderful about a good conversation. 

I love coffee.  I’ll drink a simple, black coffee with sugar and enjoy it.  I’ll take a flavored coffee.  I love a good cappuccino or mocha.  But how do I feel about people?

I’m fond of saying “I hate people”.  There must be some truth to that.  I suppose if you’re reading this you may know something about me and you may have your own opinion about the truth of that phrase.  I hate social situations, or at least when I have to be involved in them and I hate being forced to interact with people when I don’t get to choose the people.  Maybe that’s the thing.  Maybe I like “my people” but not the others?  But then you may also conclude that the way I observe people when I come out of my hermitage indicates that I actually love people.  They can certainly be entertaining.  Whatever the truth may be, watching this show makes me really miss having coffee with some of my friends. 

Over the years I’ve had the good fortune of bonding over caffeine with some interesting people.  The coffee shop seems to be the place where it’s socially acceptable to buy something cheap and then take up space there for hours on end.  Restaurants work too, but there’s some thought and effort that goes into eating.  Somehow that takes something away from a good conversation.  Also, they want your table so they can keep making money.  Starbucks doesn’t care. 

I’ve had talks with artists, musicians, professors and long-term friends with a hot cup of coffee in front of me.  Sometimes it’s a former student I get to catch up with.  Sometimes it’s G.  You don’t always think of having a coffee and catching up with your wife, but there’s the occasional Saturday morning when breakfast turns into coffee talk and before you know it, you’ve been sitting there a good portion of the morning.  That’s the kind of coffee talk I mean.  The kind where you spend hours talking, laughing and waxing philosophical and really getting to know the person across from you.  I don’t mind watching you from a distance and observing your every move.  I may draw you or sneak a photo to draw later but while I’m doing that, I’m also thinking about what you’re thinking about…wondering what’s going through your head or what difficult things you’re dealing with in life.  That’s all part of the intrigue.  But getting to ask you over a steaming cup of coffee is so much more satisfying. 

My friend Donovan usually checks in when he breezes through town on what I call one of his “tours”.  If I’m lucky I’ll get penciled in for a stop at Barnes & Noble in the fake Starbucks.  We’ll spend hours there cackling like old hens in those seats that make your butt sweat so when you stand up you wonder if you sat in something.  I generally get to have coffee with Logan on one of our beach trips.  We load the kids up on cookies, hot chocolate and books so they’ll be willing to sit still and quiet long enough to let us chat.  Ginger used to be a coffee talk regular.  The kids would ask her to get coffee with us after a meal because they liked hanging out with her too.  Ali was a coffee and restaurant chatter for a while too.  But now as I think about every single one of these coffee pals, I see that we’re all getting older, having kids, traveling more, getting jobs and generally getting busier with life and thus, having coffee together less.

We text, sure.  A well thought out dose of sarcasm or cynicism in one of those rectangular text boxes is nice once in a while.  A note to let you know that they still remember you.  But that smile stings a little as you realize the text conversation that ensues is a lame substitute for a face-to-face coffee.  I prefer to hear the sarcasm and see the twinkle in the eye.

A couple of months ago I had coffee with a newish friend.  Justin is the husband of a lady I’ve known for a long time and while I was in their town I checked in.  Justin was free for breakfast so we met at his favorite place and had the absolute best conversation.  You would have thought we were old friends.  I learned so much and developed so much respect for him that morning over black coffee and crispy bacon. 

If I had Seinfeld’s schedule, checkbook and lifestyle, I’d spend one day a week traveling around and having coffee with my friends.  Maybe we could all spend some time talking and figure out if I really hate people.  We may even stumble upon the meaning of life.

If we’ve had coffee in the past or if we ever have coffee in the future, you can be certain that I do not hate you.  And if we haven’t had coffee in a while, let’s fix that, shall we?