The Boulevard Series - In honor of the closing of Boulevard Coffee, my refuge of the last 20 years, I am posting some pieces that I wrote about things that occurred there over the years. So it is with both fondness and sorrow that I give you the first of the series.

This event ocurred around the year 2000 I think.  I've told the story many times....

Fred - Part One

There’s someone out there who looks like me.  Apparently he is a nice guy.  Until just recently I didn’t know his name, but I have been aware of his presence for over 20 years.  His name is Fred.  I have never met Fred, but I can see some potential for him to complicate my life.

When my wife and I were in our “pre-dating” phase of our dating relationship, (ya know when you’re not officially dating, but you “run into” each other all the time), my future mother-in-law, whom I love dearly, told my wife-to-be that she had seen me at the state fair with ANOTHER WOMAN. 

Now at any time in a relationship the words “another woman” are never said in a positive context.  At least I have yet to hear the phrase used in a good way.  Fortunately for me my wife-to-be had called me at work the night that I was supposedly with this other woman, and I had called her when I got back to my place after work, so she knew that I wasn’t at the fair.  I am very fortunate to be able to look back on this and laugh.  Ever since then I have wondered if I would ever meet whoever it was that looked enough like me to get me into trouble, and if I would ever have to deal with something like this again.

I mean, think about it.  All this guy has to do is walk around town with his arm around his wife, and anyone who thinks he’s me is gonna walk up and slap him.  Although I suppose the same is true for him as well.  Some if his friends might see me with my wife and come up and slap me.  I wonder if I have gotten him in trouble?  Never thought about that one before.

Anyway, jump ahead to just a few months ago.

I am sitting at a table in my favorite coffee house.  It’s called Boulevard Coffee on Fair Oaks Boulevard in Carmichael.  (No they didn’t pay me for that I just wanted to give them credit.)  They serve what, in my opinion, is some of the best coffee in town.  Every Tuesday morning around 8AM I go there to have some time to myself.  I read or write or just stare out the window.  It’s a good place for that.  It’s set up so you feel like you’re in somebody’s den or library.  Sometimes they have a fire going in the fireplace and it gets even more comfortable.  And if you stay there for a long time they don’t bother you.  They seem to like having you around.  I have been going there regularly for a while, and as is usually the case, you start to get to know the other regulars enough to say hi, or even have a regular conversation with them.

Now since I am a “weekly” regular as opposed to a “daily” regular I don’t know them all as well as I would like.  There is one group that usually starts to gather around the time that I am getting ready to leave.  There’re three men in the group, and they’re all really nice guys.  They are all in their late 60’s to early 70’s, and while I don’t know their names I’ve talked to them enough to know that they are the kind of guys I’d like to hang around with.  You can just sit and talk about whatever you want, and soak in the wisdom they have to give.

One day a few months ago, before I had started talking to these men, I found myself confused (which some will say is my usual condition).

I was sitting in my usual spot when the first of these three gentlemen came in to the shop.  He walked over to me and laid a friendly hand on my shoulder and said,

“Hey Fred, can I get you a refill?”

Now normally anyone offering to buy me a cup of coffee is a friend of mine, but normally by the time anyone offers to buy me a cup of coffee I have usually met them before.  I had never seen this guy before this moment.

In confusion (like I said) I looked up at him and said with my usual eloquence,

“Uhhhh, …my name’s not Fr-”

“Oh, you’re not Fred!” he interrupted.

“Uh-uh.” I am such a master of the spoken language.

“Sorry, you look just like Fred!”

I hope that’s a good thing.

“No problem.”  Bummer about missing the refill.  Oh well.

He went to sit at his usual table, and waited for his friends, and I went back to my book.

A few minutes went by and the next man in the group came into the shop.  As he walked by my table he paused and said,

“Hey Fred!  How are you?”

“Hi, I’m not Fre-”

“He’s not Fred!” called the first guy from their table.

“Wow, you really look like Fred.”

“Yeah, that’s what I gather.”  I said.  At least I was getting a little more verbal.

“Well it was nice to meet you either way.”

“Thanks, you too.” I replied.

He made his way to the counter to get his coffee, and I went back to my book.

After a few more minutes the third gentleman in the group walked in.  He went to the counter to get his coffee and on his way to their table he looked at me and paused.  He squinted his eyes as he looked at me and said,

“Fred?  Is that you?”

“That’s not Fred!” said the first two guys from their table.  I didn’t even have time to open my mouth that time.  I think everyone in the shop was pretty clear on the fact that my name wasn’t Fred by now.

“Oh!  Sorry.  You look just like Fred.  My eyes aren’t very good these days.”

“Nope, my name’s not Fred.  But my name is Dan, and I’m thinking Fred must be a nice guy to be on such good terms with all of you.” I said, and then I held out my hand and shook his, and went over to their table and shook hands with the other two gentlemen.  They invited me to sit with them, and I would have but it was already time for me to leave so I declined.

Now at last I had a name to put to the man who was not making any attempt to imitate me, but was doing so anyway.

One of these days I am going to actually meet Fred.  I am going to tell him all the cases of mistaken identity that I have experienced over the last 20 years.  And I’d be willing to bet that when I actually see him, I probably won’t recognize him.  I probably won’t be able to see any resemblance between us at all, but everyone else will.  That’s the way it usually is; when we look at ourselves we rarely see what is plain as day to everyone else. Now that I think of it, if someone tries to blame me for something I don’t want to take credit for, I could just say, “Fred did it!”  I’ll probably be safe too, ‘cuz I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know my name.

Well, I suppose I can live with Fred as my alter ego, at least as long as he doesn’t really screw anything up.  If he does something really bad then I’m gonna have to go hunt him down, but if he’s been good for the last 20 years we’re probably safe.  I should probably offer to buy him his next cup of coffee though. 

©Dan Bode 2003