How do you like your coffee?

In the rural part of New England I recently visited, you have to travel long distances to get from Here to There. Cities are separated by long and winding country roads, and cow pastures far outnumber places of commerce. I learn quickly that you can’t drive down to the corner for a latte on a whim. Ordinarily, my Garmin helps keep me from getting lost, but overcast skies + thickly forested areas = countless hours wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar territory while it’s “recalculating.” 

So anyway…it’s 7:00 a.m. on my first day of the project, and I’m already feeling a bit overwhelmed. Nothing that can’t be remedied with a bracing cuppa coffee, I tell myself, as I grab the car keys and ask my GPS to find the local java joint.

A half hour later, I’m approaching Main Street in a neighboring township. The disembodied voice on the dash announces that the Promised Land is a mere "point two miles" from the stop sign where my car’s idling. But true to form, I make another wrong turn. Businesses give way to barnyards, and it’s not long before I realize that I’m leaving civilization. Again.

 

I whip my borrowed Subaru into the entrance of a car wash, where a beefy man in a tight-fitting tank top and cut-offs is sprawled in a plastic lounge chair, watching a John Deere tractor crawl down the highway in the opposite direction. He eyes me warily when I wheel into a grassy area close to where he’s sitting. I get out of the car and approach him with a smile, asking for directions while I’m walking. 
 

As he rises to his feet, I take note of his numerous tattoos. Japanese characters crawl up his neck, and inked images cover all visible appendages. “You ain’t from around here, are you Missy?” he asks, rubbing his shaved head as he takes in my outfit and essence. It’s more a statement than a question. His eyes are kind, and his voice is reassuring when he gives me directions.

“Thanks for helping me,” I say, extending my hand. “My name’s Melodye. What’s yours?”

“Dante,” he says, and he squeezes my hand in friendship. As I return to my car, I’m stifling a (relieved) giggle. Lord knows, it helps to have guardian angels like Dante when you find yourself lost in the hinterlands as much as I do!
 

And so continues my sojourn. I find the coffee shop without further difficulty. The exterior of the building is charming; the interior is quaint. Distressed wooden planks cover the floor, and old-time pictures of the town line the smooth plaster walls. Here’s what it looks like from the street:

I’m soon reminded that I’m a long way from It’s a Grind, the neighborhood coffee shop I frequent in Southern California. The people behind the counter never crack a smile. Not once, during the entire three weeks I give them my patronage! When I try to engage the clerks in conversation, they cut me off. “What can I get for you?” they ask in bland voices, and it’s more a brush-off than an invitation. Refills cost extra, and more still if you drink from a mug while you’re there and ask for a to-go cup when you leave.

I watch the locals place their orders quickly and then cluster their chairs in the middle of the shop, sipping coffee while catching up on neighborhood gossip and jawing about the weather. It’s soon clear that they aren’t open to outsiders, so I retreat to a corner and watch the action outside the window. Dog walkers. Pipe smokers. Truck-driving construction workers, and hay-balers on their way to the fields. And I long for the companionship that usually accompanies this morning ritual. I’m used to baristas who know me by name, who ask how my writing’s going and want to know if I’d like “the usual.”

On my last morning in town, the door bangs shut behind me when I walk up to the counter. “What can I get for you?” the clerk asks, looking around me (or through me) with vacant eyes. Sigh. It’s the same order I’ve given him every day for nearly three weeks.  He taps his fingers on the counter while I reach into my wallet for cash and a punch card. And as I plop down in my usual spot and stare into my cup, I’m acutely aware of what it is that I’m missing. I realize that I’m a "stranger in a strange land," and as such, these locals owe me nothing. But in a coffee shop, caffeine’s a given, and I’m paying good money to fuel my addiction. So how about throwing in a little kindness, no extra charge?

As I pull the door closed behind me one final time, I’m craving the cup of comfort that’s waiting for me back home.

47 Comments

  1. I am sorry for that. That attitude is really not the best New England has to offer.

    I am thankful that Dante represented New Englanders better! : )

    • Oh, I didn’t intend this as a portrayal of my experiences as a whole, just one sliver…

      In general, I found that New Englanders were more like Dante than the people I met/observed in that coffee shop. It seemed almost ironic to me that a gathering place was so closed off to newcomers–it wasn’t at all like the friendliness I experienced elsewhere! And that’s why I chose to write about it. 🙂

      • And besides…I have lots of New Englander friends on LJ, who’ve taught me by example just how lovely and loving you East Coast people really are!

  2. You know, I don’t tend to think of New Englanders as being so tight-mouthed and all, because they’re not the ones I hang out with. But when I was recently visiting my daughter in L.A., she was laughing, because in three days I seemed to feel the baristas at Coffee Bean were my new best friends. They seemed almost shockingly friendly! And it was lovely.

    • Aww, I’m very glad that you were so warmly welcomed!

      I do think there are regional variances in how people approach newcomers. I have my theories about why this is so…I’m sure we could write a collective essay about that. 🙂

  3. That really sort of blows my image of things a bit… maybe it was silly or naive, but I sort of thought folks would be friendly… like Dante out there.

    I’m sorry that you couldn’t even get a smile from those folks. There is definitely comfort in having your “regular people” who know you and your drinks on sight. I’m sorry that your experience out there was less than stellar in that regard. But the outside of the coffee house is sooooo charming. Seriously. Wow.

    Thanks for sharing this little piece of your journey. I’m looking forward to more!

    • As I mentioned above, those coffee shop people were a microcosm all unto themselves, and certainly not a representation of my New England experiences as a whole. Not at all. But I thought it was worth noting, if only for the interesting juxtaposition of (my own) expectations vs. reality. And never fear, I met lots more people like Dante than those with stiff upper lips. L)

      • Well, I’m glad you met more Dante-esque like people on your travels. 🙂

        But you are right that it’s so odd to be so closed-off in a social gathering place like a coffee shop. And it is definitely an interesting juxtaposition. I tend to think a lot of people might carry the same sort of expectations of people in New England. Perhaps we’ve seen to many movies that gave us that image to begin with. 😉

  4. Beautiful writing, Melodye! I was hoping for a happy ending – on the last day, he finally asks you where you’re from with a smile. But I guess not. 🙂

    Still, that last line sums it up so well, and it made ME smile!

    • I was hoping for a happy ending, too. It eventually happened–just not in that location. 🙂

      Thanks for your kind words, Lisa. I’m glad you read your way into the heart of the story.

  5. Beautiful writing, Melodye! I was hoping for a happy ending – on the last day, he finally asks you where you’re from with a smile. But I guess not. 🙂

    Still, that last line sums it up so well, and it made ME smile!

  6. Beautiful postcards with words. My family is from New England. I think these grumps were just checking you out, the mysterious “stranger in town.”

    • I think so, too. Some people take umbrage when newcomers invade their space. I’m pretty easy-going when it comes to navigating new neighbors/circumstances, but I guess there are those who find great(er) comfort in the familiar.

      Thanks for allowing me to share my postcard with you. Happy weekend!!!

  7. Well shoot, they just lost a chance to meet sweet wonderful you! Their loss. It is interesting though how they were so closed to reaching out, especially because they probably don’t see too many new faces.

    I’m so glad you’re back to your friendly spot, and back to us! I love hearing these snippets. 🙂

    • I felt sad that I never really got acquainted with them, either.

      I’m glad to be home, too!

      But I met a lot of great people, which I’ll introduce you to later. Meantime, thanks so much for indulging me as I unpack my memories. 🙂

    • Oh gosh, thanks so very much! I’m so happy that you took the time to read my “postcard.” It’s such fun to share travel experiences with my friends!

      (And yeah, Dante’s great! I smile every time I think about him.)

  10. Thanks for stopping by–and for leaving such a nice comment!

    Quaintville–yeah, that’s about right. It’s fascinating, I think, to observe other people and cultures. Even though we live in the same country, each region–heck, each state, city, and neighborhood–has its own quirks, and discovering them is always a grand adventure!

  11. I’ve heard that in general New England folks are hesitant to let strangers in, but once they do let you in their circle, they’re the best. Perhaps had you moved there and became a regular, they would have eventually embraced you.

    What do I know, I only wish I were from New England… ;o)

    • I’ve heard similar thoughts, and it seems likely it’s true. But I made lots of friends, and easily, in other places around those parts. Lucky for me! 🙂

      I love New England, too. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

  12. Oy! As someone who’s lived in MA for more than a decade, I’m truly sorry to hear how you were cold-shouldered up here. Those folks missed something special, that’s what I think. And kindness never goes amiss. (Thank goodness for Dante!)

    • That’s been my observation, too, Kelly. This experience doesn’t represent all Northeasterners, I know. It’s just one coffee shop at one point in time…

      🙂

    • That’s been my observation, too, Kelly. This experience doesn’t represent all Northeasterners, I know. It’s just one coffee shop at one point in time…

      🙂

  17. Great story . . . .

    I think you could send this piece somewhere – changing the names to protect the innocent.

    Dante — what a great guy.

    The coffeeshoppers saw you every day and didn’t know what to do – in case you were just there temporarily — but the barrista — I don’t get their unfriendliness – all that time – 3 weeks.

    I know what you mean – about having a place where they all know your name and ask how you’re writing is going, and know what your ‘usual is– I have that at the Panera here.

    [ the nearest it’s a Grind is 30 miles from me – I just checked that out at your link]

    • Re: Great story . . . .

      Thanks–I’d actually thought of submitting it, but truth be told, I don’t really know where there might be a market.

      LOVE Dante. Love, love, love. I smile whenever I think about that gentle giant. 🙂

      Yeah, the persistent wall…I’m not sure what that was all about. After several visits, I thought the walls might come tumblin’ down, but they didn’t. I can’t think that I’m the only “outsider” that experienced it, though.

      I’m glad you have a comfortable coffee shop of your own. I think everyone deserves something similar.

      xo

  18. Ayup… you can get from here to there but it takes a spell. The long and winding country roads are there for a purpose…to help you to relax and get in touch with nature. Sadly we are losing more and more cow pastures to mall sprawl and commerce. And I HATE it!!

    Reading about your wrong turns and Dante made me chuckle but I’m sorry you were treated so badly. I hate to say it, but… (Yup, I’m gonna put my foot in it once again) that’s the typical ‘Flattie” attitude that we’ve come to expect. You were NOT in what we consider to be the “true New England” which is Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont.

    If you want a ‘cup of comfort’ the next time you come east, head north a bit more and come into my neck of the woods… you’ll enter a different world.

    Just don’t come during ski season when the attitude changes more along the lines of what you found in that CT coffee house. That’s when we are invaded by hordes of “Flats” with their rudeness and unreasonable demands… and rather than give them a piece of our minds, we bite our tongues and just try to head them out the door as quickly as possible.

    • We’re trying very hard to keep our large acreage intact in this sale for the very reason you’ve cited here. I love driving down country roads…so beautiful! I’m not that fond of being lost, however. 🙂

      I had no idea before now that there were such things as “Flatties.” Is this a reference to the topographical (and perhaps other) distinctions between your region and those a little south of you?

      I definitely want to visit you, Sharon. My husband says Vermont is one of the most beautiful states of all, and I believe him. And if your fellow residents are anything like you…well, I think we’ll get along famously. xo

      • We’re trying very hard to keep our large acreage intact in this sale for the very reason you’ve cited here

        Melodye, call or email the CT chapter of The Nature Conservancy immediately, and put the land into it before it’s sold. With the stipulation that the fields, etc be kept as open farm land and that the land can NEVER be divided and/or developed. More and more farmers in Vermont are going that route to get around “Flattie-itis’

        The Nature Conservancy Connecticut Chapter
        55 Church Street, Floor 3
        New Haven, CT 06510-3029
        Phone: (203) 568-6270
        Fax: (860) 344-1334
        E-mail: ct@tnc.org

        • The term ‘Flattie’ or “Flatlander is strictly a Vermont expression and was coined by old time native Vermonter’s for people who came to Vermont from New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut and New Jersey. People from other states were considered, ‘Foreigners.’

          The term ‘Flatlander’ implies a person who visits Vermont or lives here and brings all the negative qualities from their home state into ours (usually those who are ‘sceond home’ owners). It is also ued for a person who is unfamiliar with the traditional Vermont values, for Vermont has a unique culture and history that is rapidly disappearing, along with the farms, which made the state what it was in the first place.

          To put it very bluntly, hundreds of thousands of wealthy people from those particular states invaded Vermont like a swarm of locuts,seize control of its resources and institutions, demean and destroy the values of its people, alter the landscape, and drive many of the native Vermonters from their homes as a result of those activities… and it still holds true today.

          To quote, Nathan Mansfield, a native Vermonter, “They [the flatlander] think they can meld their beliefs of what Vermont is into our reality.”

          Vermont is. I’m afraid, an endangered species.

          Unfortunately for the ‘Flattie,’ even if they assimilate into Vermont’s culture and reside here for 80 years, they can never rid themselves of that label… and their children and their children’s children will be forever known as sons and daughters/ grandsons and grandaughters of a ‘Flatlander.’ The old time Vermonter’s say that a person needs to be here for at least 3 generations before they can call themselves a ‘Vermonter’ and then they are considered new comers.

  19. Ayup… you can get from here to there but it takes a spell. The long and winding country roads are there for a purpose…to help you to relax and get in touch with nature. Sadly we are losing more and more cow pastures to mall sprawl and commerce. And I HATE it!!

    Reading about your wrong turns and Dante made me chuckle but I’m sorry you were treated so badly. I hate to say it, but… (Yup, I’m gonna put my foot in it once again) that’s the typical ‘Flattie” attitude that we’ve come to expect. You were NOT in what we consider to be the “true New England” which is Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont.

    If you want a ‘cup of comfort’ the next time you come east, head north a bit more and come into my neck of the woods… you’ll enter a different world.

    Just don’t come during ski season when the attitude changes more along the lines of what you found in that CT coffee house. That’s when we are invaded by hordes of “Flats” with their rudeness and unreasonable demands… and rather than give them a piece of our minds, we bite our tongues and just try to head them out the door as quickly as possible.

  20. So of course I am late getting caught up with your beautiful posts. I ran into a similar thing when I lived in Virginia for a year. I never, ever made it past the front line to the inner circle.

  21. So of course I am late getting caught up with your beautiful posts. I ran into a similar thing when I lived in Virginia for a year. I never, ever made it past the front line to the inner circle.

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