About a year ago I wrote a story about a man named Fred,
whom I had never met, but for whom I was being mistaken on a semi regular
basis. This whole thing came to a head
when several regulars in the coffee shop mistook me for Fred. Well now I have reason to write, as Paul
Harvey would say, “The Rest of the Story”.
I met Fred!
A few days ago I gave a copy of Fred (Part One) to Cliff,
the owner of Boulevard Coffee where the original story took place. When I came in today he walked up to me and
pointing to guy sitting at the table right next to me he said, “Dan, meet
Fred! Fred meet Dan!” and then he just
laughed out loud.
“Are you serious? Is
this really Fred?” I asked.
“Yes it is!”
Fred meanwhile was looking at us with a look of complete
confusion.
Cliff handed his copy of the Fred story to Fred and said,
“You need to read this.
Dan gave this to me a couple of days ago, and when I read it I laughed
my face off! Then I brought this in for
the rest of the staff to read and I see you two sitting right next to each
other! When I read this I knew I was
going to have to do something about this, because I knew all the players! Now here you are and the mystery is
solved! Fred read this story and you
will understand everything.”
So Fred, having said nothing up to this point said, “Ok.”
With a somewhat bemused smile on his face and started reading. He chuckled as he read it, for which I am
infinitely glad. There is nothing like
the suspense a writer feels when he is sitting right next to someone who is
reading one of his stories. It’s even
worse when the subject of the story is the one reading it.
He looked up at me when he was done, “That was funny! That really happened?”
“Yes it did.”
I looked at him a little closer, trying to be objective
about it, and honestly, while he is a nice looking guy, I don’t think we really
look that much alike. We could maybe be
mistaken for brothers though. He is bald
too, although as he himself stated, “You have more hair than I do.” Which in
reality isn’t saying much.
“Well you know when you’re in your seventies with bad eyes
and on meds anybody can look alike!” said Cliff. This is what I consider to be a Deep
Truth.
The only disadvantage to this whole thing is that now I
won’t be able to blame anything on Fred.
After giving it a little more thought I should have expected
that Cliff would have known everyone involved in the story. He tells me that they have been coming to the
shop for 10 years. He says, “This is why
I do this. I love this stuff that happens
with all these people!”
Fred and I talked for a little bit. He told me more about the guys in the
story. One of them had introduced him to
his girlfriend, Page, a very pretty woman who was at the table with him and
also read the story. The guys apparently
don’t get out too much anymore, for health reasons. One of them has a serious illness that
prevents him from doing too much. Now
that we all know each other I will need to find out more about them and get to
know them better vicariously if nothing else.
By virtue of who they are they have been profound influences on the
lives of others. I hope that I can say
the same as I grow older.
I have decided that I really love this place. I mean, I knew I liked it before, but I never
really gave it much more thought. As I
sit here at this table in the midst of a small crowd of humanity I realize as I
watch everyone behind the counter that people are here, like me, because they
really just simply enjoy being here. I am sure the caffeine is at least partially
responsible for this feeling, simply by virtue of the fact that it is rather
difficult to maintain a depressed demeanor when your whole body is shaking from
the extra jolt from that second cup.
But the bottom line is this: this is a great place to be,
and I will come as often as I am able. I
will sit at my table and read, or write, or stare out the window. I will watch people coming and going some of
whom I know some of whom I don’t know, and some of whom I will know. There’s a certain camaraderie that exists
simply because we know that we are all there because of a common denominator:
we all like this place. There is a warmth that comes from the people
that work here, the physical design of the place, and even the shelves that are
packed with all the tea and coffee paraphernalia that you could ever possibly
think of. When you come in you get that
nod of familiarity even if they don’t know your name yet. They remember what you ordered in the past
when you’ve been coming there for a little while too. Whenever one of my friends wants to get
together for coffee I do everything I can to arrange a meeting there. I know they will like it, but I have to admit
that the main reason is selfish: it gives me another excuse to go there. And if they decide to buy my coffee for me I
feel particularly blessed.
Cliff used to have two shops, but he sold the one that was
my original haunt to someone else. I
went there a few times afterward just because it had become more of a habit and
it was a little closer to my home. But I
have to tell you that it simply wasn’t the same place. I couldn’t deal with it. Perhaps I am simply too much a creature of
habit. There were different people there
now who came for different reasons so I started driving down Fair Oaks Boulevard
a few miles further to Cliff’s place. It
feels much better here. The coffee’s
better too. He roasts his own beans, and
you can tell the difference between his and others. It’s that good. And that Pecan Streusel CoffeeCake is to die
for. Whenever I come home from there my
wife almost always says, “You smell like coffee”. Which is much better than smelling like a lot
of other things. She likes the smell of
coffee by the way, so that’s just another plus for Boulevard although I’m not
sure it could take the place of a good cologne.
So if you’re looking for me, and you haven’t been able to
catch up to me at home, then start hanging around Boulevard Coffee and sooner
or later you’ll catch up to me. Or Fred.
©Dan Bode 2004
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