The Coffee Shoppe

Here in Washington State we have coffee shoppes – a LOT of coffee shoppes.

It all started in Seattle with Starbucks. Now, no matter where you go, you can buy ridiculously high priced coffee and learn Italian at the same time. Macchiato, Dolce Latte, Cappuccino, Espresso, and don’t forget Frappuccino. I’m not sure what Frappuccino is but they have 18 varieties of the damn stuff.

I always order a mocha. It’s the only thing in the shoppe I know how to spell. (I had to look those others up.) And it contains my two favorite addictions: coffee AND chocolate.

Besides, I don’t have internet at home, but the coffee shoppe does. So I figure a $4.00 cup of coffee is cheaper than cable.

By the way, did you notice I spell it “shoppe” instead of “shop”? That makes me way cooler than people who drink old-school black coffee. Here in the shoppe we call that stuff “drip coffee” – a subtle put down of those poor drips who can’t speak Italian.

It’s a diverse group today – tall, short, fat, skinny, East Indian, Asian, a bunch of white guys, and one neo-hippy who needs a bath. I’m going to call him Jed because his hat is reminiscent of Jed Clampett’s.

Most are fighting a battle we often cannot see

On the surface, we all look normal (well except for Jed, he doesn’t even smell normal). But I imagine most here are fighting well-hidden battles, some big, some small: financial troubles, health issues, divorce, a looming wedding with an annoying mother-in-law, where to quickly find an exact match of little Jessica’s goldfish before she discovers it went belly up.

I have to admit, old Jed, despite his odiferous aura, seems at peace with the world. It’s getting close to 4:20 pm so maybe he got a head start. If only he had… I’d much prefer that smell over whatever it is emanating from him.

Sorry, I got distracted. Where was I? Oh, yeah, hidden battles.

Statistically speaking, someone else here probably has cancer

This crowd is large enough that, statistically speaking, there is probably someone else here who has cancer. But I bet that person, like myself, has struggles other than his disease––regular, ‘normal’ issues.

I sometimes wonder if people only see me as that guy who has cancer. When I got leukemia, it felt like I was immediately identified with the ‘C’ word. Sure, it’s a part of me, but beyond that, I’m a regular, if somewhat eccentric, guy.

Maybe that’s why I only show strangers my surface self. Maybe that’s why everyone in here is doing the same. We all want to be treated as equals.

Remembering invisible battles

Here’s a thought: what if we understood that all 8 billion of us are fighting our own personal battles? What if we saw each person as someone who simply needs a friendly face to lighten an otherwise dark day? And what if we understood that every one of us wants to be something more than what people think we are. Maybe we’d see each other in a different light.

Hmmm, I think I’ll say hello to Jed.