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The Demise of the Coffeehouse

5/5/2017

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Picture
I read a great book awhile ago called The Invention of Air, by Steven Johnson. It recounts the story of Joseph Priestley, who discovered of all things, oxygen. In the book the author speculates that the Age of Enlightenment during Joseph Priestley's lifetime, came about in part because of coffeehouses. Yes coffeehouses. Because before the advent of coffeehouses, people would congregate at alehouses. And well, as might be expected, caffeine was a major contributor to the stimulating discussions going on at the time, much more so than mead. One can just imagine Priestley, Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and their colleagues of the time period, all jacked up on coffee, expounding on their ideas.

"Hey, what if we put a key on the end of that kite and see what happens during an electric storm?"

 or "I wonder, if I light a candle, place it under a glass jar with a plant, will the flame go out?"

I wrote about half of my novel Imaginary Brightness, or 45,000 words at a coffeehouse in town. The other half at the library. I don't have an office at home so I need a place to go to write. But since the coffeehouse has closed down, I've had a dilemma. Where to go? Especially on a Sunday when the library is closed. I miss my coffeehouse. Every time I went in there the barista recognized me and would make me a latte with a design (see above - I took a picture of it and found it this am in my iphone).

I came to recognize the regulars, the teenagers, the tourists. One would think that there were not other coffeehouse in town. Well, there is a bakery that has great doughnuts but lacks those cozy couches, and a coffee shop that serves candy but has no place to sit. They are not A COFFEEHOUSE.

They are not a place where I could go, link to the wifi, and sit down to write, oblivious to the comings and goings around me, caught up in my own little coffeehouse world of writing. When I needed inspiration I just looked up from my laptop and looked around me. For some reason the hubbub of the crowd never bothered me. I could blot it out and write away. But now it's gone. The previous owners called it quits and the sign outside said something about turning it into a brew pub. We come full circle. I guess if I were Ernest Hemingway, I'd be glad for the change of venue.

But I'm not.


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Drinking Coffee Out of Fine China

12/16/2016

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PictureMy Royal Doulton collection - called Rhodes.
In my novel Imaginary Brightness, about a pioneering family, the Durants, who develop the Adirondack wilderness in the late 19th century, I have  one of the locals scoffing at the fact that they bring fine china into the woods.  I'm not sure, but I think the use of fine china anywhere but at a fancy restaurant is an American past time.

When I was preparing to get married over twenty years ago, my mother insisted that I register for a set of fine china. I thought it was absolutely ridiculous as I had no intention of ever using it, indeed, the only time I ever do is on holidays, and even that is rare. 

Yesterday after a morning swim in the lake, my friends and I were drinking coffee out of the cheap disposable cups that we have lying around our house and I recalled what my editor friend in England told me. He said that beverages taste much better when consumed from a cup made of fine china. He gave me a coffee mug made of china and I have to say, he is right. It doesn't seem to hold the heat as well though. While telling my friends this story I realized that my teacups, the ones I received as a wedding gift from someone - maybe a relative, or close family friend - whoever it was, thank you, again - have been sitting in a cupboard above my refrigerator for over a decade, hardly ever used. I'm not getting any younger, and I highly doubt my children will care if they inherit these things as they don't have any loving memories of me pulling it out and using it for special occasions, so today I pulled out two cups and put them in amongst my assorted, none-matching, coffee mugs.

I'm determined to use them, if for no other reason than that they are pretty, and dainty, and they make hot liquids taste better. But most importantly, because I am not getting any younger and I can, if I want, drink my coffee out of fine china.



Picture
The coffee mug my editor gave me.
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    Sheila Myers  Professor at Cayuga Community College in Upstate New York.

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