Boulevard Coffee is closed.
As the saying goes, “All good things must come to an end.”
Why that is true I don’t really understand, but there it
is. And now we come to the end of
something that has been here for 35 years, give or take. Three generations of my family, and countless
friends, have had the opportunity to experience it directly or indirectly. Some of you who have read my blog in the past
will have read about episodes of my life that have happened there.
It’s reasonable to assume that, after this many years,
roasting beans in a plant that reaches temperatures over 100 F in the summer,
and working behind the counter serving customers of every disposition and
persuasion, the owner might feel he has a right to retire. And he does, so he is. Retiring I mean.
Cliff has been watching people darken the door at Boulevard
Coffee for a long time. He started off
originally at a little spot further up Fair Oaks Boulevard that was more like
someone’s living room. It had a fireplace,
and couches everywhere, and it felt very “homey”. Eventually he expanded to a second store and
a separate roasting plant. After several
years he closed the original shop and stayed at the second store.
I started going to the original store and then switched to
the second one when he closed the first one.
I was there at least once a week, but usually more if I could find a way
to work it into my schedule. I started
going there because the coffee was the best I ever had, and I have yet to find
better. I continued to go there because it
became a refuge for me. The events of my
life led me to find someplace where I could find a few hours of peace, and so I
found myself a spot at a table there and received an education in coffee at the
feet of the master.
There were times when few seats were available. I walked in one day and the place was as
crowded as I’d ever seen it. I looked
around and told Cliff, “I guess I better get it to go today!”
Cliff looked around and said, “Hang on a minute.”
He went to the back through a door and stuck his head back
out and waved me back. He pulled up a
chair to the supply room counter and said, “Is this ok? I don’t want you to have to leave.”
“Really? That’s really cool!
Thanks!”
“What do you want?”
I told him what I wanted and he brought it back to me. I felt like I had the keys to the
kingdom. It was one of those moments
where I felt like I could say, “Yeah I know somebody who can help you…”, you
know? That’s been our relationship for
20 years.
Cliff was roasting coffee in the Sacramento area long before
anyone else. A “coffee community” has
sprung up over the last 10 years or so, but I have to say they are some of the
most pretentious people I’ve ever met.
They think a good cup of coffee is rated by the design the person
pouring it draws in the cream. And the
coffee isn’t that great.
I am biased for sure, but I’m also right on this point. So there.
As I have contemplated my last day here at Boulevard I think
back to when I first started coming here.
It was a place to go to separate myself from all the pressures of my
normal environment. As life moved on
over the years it was a place where I knew I always had a space. I was always comfortable here with both the
staff and the regulars. It was safe. Boulevard was the first place I thought of to
meet my family and friends, the place I went to read or write, the place to
simply sit, and in essence quite simply my refuge. I knew all the employees, and they knew
me. If you walked in and asked them to
make your coffee the way Dan Bode drinks it they would know what to give
you. I used to bring in breakfast burritos
to the employees on Sunday mornings just to make sure they had breakfast since
they started so early. I felt a little
bad when I brought them in and discovered Jeff was trying to go
vegetarian. He decided to put it off for
a while since there was bacon in it, which I thought was a very intelligent
choice because, well – bacon! Most
coffee places know who you are by the drink you order, but there they actually
knew your name. Boulevard was the Cheers
of coffee.
When I started dating Brenda this was one of the first
places I brought her, and of course everyone loved her as much as they loved
me.
In light of all this I understand that as much as it is the
right time for Cliff to close these doors for himself, it is also the right
time for me. My life is filled with joy
now, and I no longer need the refuge. At
the same time without all the experiences and people from this place I would
not have the degree of joy I have come to know.
This place, and the people there, have helped to shape me into the
person who was right for my wife. I had
countless cups with my daughters, and grandkids (hot chocolate for them),
extended family and friends. Knowing everyone
who has worked there over the years has been a great blessing.
Today was the last official open day. I sat in the shop today for a good portion of
it. I got to see old friends and
regulars, and of course, Fred. It
wouldn’t have been right if I didn’t get to end it with him there since it
pretty much started with him too. It was
funny that I had just finished telling the Fred story to one of the other regulars
when he walked up. Perfect.
I drank more coffee than I ever have before in one day.
It occurred to me today as I was driving in that I had
expected to be going to Boulevard after I retired, but Cliff beat me to it. Twenty years of Saturdays, and then some,
have passed by in this place, so now I have to find something else to fill my
time. It’s not like there’s not plenty
to do – I just need to get used to the idea of doing something different. Driving a different direction. Setting a different path.
This whole experience has been a lot like reading a good
book. When it’s well written you get
caught up in the story and the lives of the characters. You get to know them very well, but then the
story always ends. You miss the
characters and their world that you were a part of for a while. You miss the story and wish it hadn’t ended.
So, today as I walked out the door of Boulevard for the last
time, I read the last page and closed the cover.
Time to find a new story.
©Dan Bode 2017
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