FROM TEA CAKES TO STARBUCKS

My maternal grandmother lived with us while I was growing up, having lost her husband to heart disease two years before I was born.  When I was a kid, I recall her sisters and often their daughters (my mom's aunts and cousins) occasionally coming for a weekday afternoon visit.  My maternal relatives all were of Norwegian descent and devoutly Lutheran.  So there was no foolishness, swearing, or outrageous behavior.  There was, however, genuine delight in being together, chatting about family and health and the fate of that summer's crops, this being rural northern Illinois and a family of current and former farm folk.  

Around 3:00 Mom would set out "lunch" which was really an afternoon snack, consisting of maybe little tuna sandwiches (no crust), a relish tray, crackers, cheese, and of course, a pot of coffee (Folger's or Maxwell House, brewed) to go with the tea cakes.  This was the best part of the visit from my perspective.  A tablecloth appeared, the good dishes were used, and a small vase of flowers or greens sat as a centerpiece.  Everyone was in jolly humor, joking and laughing about old times and people I didn't know and complimenting Mom on her "lunch".   It felt very feminine -- like a tea party.  It was a time out of time, a break from housework and routine -- a dress-up day for accepting visitors.  I haven't thought about that in years.

But today at Starbucks, it all came flooding back for some reason.  I think it had something to do with the Elder man in front of me in line.  He had the most engaging smile and intense curiosity about this place he found himself frequenting at 2:00 on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.  He had a million questions about the "menu" and some difficulty hearing the young woman who was working the espresso machine.  By the way, these "youngers" need to speak up!  The machine was noisy, the overhead Muzak was loud, other conversations were going on all around us....

Anyway, he ordered a mocha, but wasn't quite sure what he actually received once the drink was in his hand.  He asked what the difference was between an "Espresso Mocha" and "Frappacino Mocha" and did they have both chocolate and coffee in them and why did they come with whipped cream?  The barista was less patient with his questions than she was eager to find out if he also wanted a pastry or something from the cold case.

I guess that's when the vision of my mom's old percolator popped into my head.  I can just imagine Aunt Amy or Aunt Ellen standing at Starbucks in their sensible shoes and cotton print dresses, little straw and net hats perched on their blue/gray heads wondering what in the world had become of "lunch" time?

Now the afternoon respite is a quick meet-up with a friend at a chain store coffee shop, all basically with the same decor, the same menu, the same barista staff trained to ask the same questions, the same hubbub going on as some semblance of conversation takes place in fits and starts amid environmental distractions and cell phone interruptions.  It's what we call "normal"now -- even pleasant.

I don't really harken back to those summer afternoons at my mom's dining room table.  I love Starbucks, actually.  But I could understand the gentleman's confusion and could imagine myself in his shoes.  Actually this is exactly how I feel in the Apple computer store, shopping for the latest technology -- friendly, eager to learn, slightly confused, yet willing to give it a try, and having a hard time hearing and understanding as the young expert at the "Genius Bar" glosses over my questions with a burst of jargon that sometimes sounds like Swahili to my 60+ year-old ears.

So, seeing this fellow ready to leave without ever understanding the difference between a hot mocha and a mocha frap, I stepped forward to explain it to him.   He was most appreciative.  We both decided the occasional addition of "whip" is a good thing.

At least, that's the view from here....©