Today we get to think about our Moms. We get a whole twenty four hours to sit back and think of how wonderful a good mom truly is. We can even try to ponder what it would be like to have a different Mom if we want to. I’ve tired to do this. I actually have in the past. It was easier when I was a kid in trouble and unable to watch Duck Tales or Batman The Animated Series but not so much now.
When I sit back and think about it, who I am, what I’ve been able to accomplish it all goes back to Mom. I wouldn’t be the man or father I am today if she wasn’t there.
If she wasn’t a genius I’d never be smart. If she never forgave me I wouldn’t know how to forgive. If she had never shown me love, kindness, fairness & compassion I’d have no clue how to treat others. If she had actually been consumed with looks and material possessions I might be living an empty life. If she had been any different these words that I’ve written would be too.
So today when I think of my Mom & all that she does and continues to do for me I also like to remember a simple fact:
If it wasn’t for her selflessness and courage, her wit and humour, her life experience and wisdom I wouldn’t be me.
The same goes for you as well dear reader. Sit and think about it. Think about your own Mom and how wonderful she is. Feels good right? Sadly tho, your Mom can’t be the best Mom. If that were true we’d be siblings.
Happy Mother’s day.
Dedicated to Lorry Harrison. One day there will be an action figure of her.
For you dear reader, the second installment of my little series todo about the many coffee houses of Rochester, NY.
Another coffee shop in a different part of the city. It’s named after a place on the other side of this nation and is situated on a ritzy commercial part of Park Avenue in the always wondrous Rochester, NY.
It attracts the do wells and young professionals at nearly one on a Monday afternoon. The sun shines bright and vibrant overhead casting serenity and joy for anyone who wants some.
Mostly this coffee shop offers a glimpse of those who would walk by. Those once weary of the overcast, dreary shadows now flood the streets due to a spot of sun light. Tight spandex and nylon. Expensive earphones and expensive sport shoes created by American scientists and designers, assembled by a small army of nameless dirty people in some place far far away. They jig and amble and pop down the sidewalk getting some much needed blood to those nearly in shape limbs.
Then you have the people with their pups, both seem happy with the extra vit. D.
And the rest, those just passing thru this little intersection of Park & Somerton. They’re the ones who look at me with a slight bit of judgement or disgust exposed about their faces like an elected officials scandal. It’s fun to nod and watch nothing happen. It’s fun to sit outside in this city surrounded by people yet all alone.
There’s some new graffiti on the walls, some stencil but it’s bad. If only because its creator is the only one who could tell you what it is. I think maybe a storm trooper drawn free hand and from memory, but I can’t be sure so I’m slightly annoyed by it. This city is very hit or miss with its graffiti but I think it’s like that wherever you go. I search the streets for other visions…
Ah the oddity of the obese woman in a relationship with the skinny man! I love those couples. They tell the world to fuck off just by holding hands. It’s like a tooth pick Aladdin and a marshmallow Jasmine only no wishes had to be granted nor did an entire pretend kingdom nearly crumble at the hands of a madman so that their love could see reality.
The girl on her white iPhone in front of me stuffed into an outfit one size too small for her and balancing on purple pumps that look one size too big. She teeters on the corner next to the stop sign and completely ignores the attractive girl in her twenties who walks by dressed like a pigeon lady from central park. And now they’re both gone.
That’s the nature of this place. Everyone passes thru and they don’t leave a trace. Like those two out of shape middle aged people carrying the fast food bag or the business man carrying his bag from the comic book store down the street. These people don’t stick in our minds. They typically vanish as soon as they’re out of site. That’s a redundant statement and this narrative has run its course.
Until next time dear readers. Perhaps I’ll sit myself at a local Starbucks & wax poetic horror at the stereotypical sights which befall me. That’ll be the day.
Outside of illustrating I also enjoy writing. Many other people have enjoyed my writing as well. Now you can too. This series of articles is entitled ‘The Coffee People’. It’s where I go to my favorite coffee shop (Starry Nites here in Rochester, NY) and write about the people I see and the thoughts that crop up due to those observations. It’s like sketching but without actually drawing anything. That being said, I’m rather bad with grammar and could use a decent editor. Enjoy.
Summer in march.
The local coffee shop is a clutter of activity. The young old all sit scattered at black metal tables laughing and playing like children. Sipping exotic drinks that came to these shores so long ago we’ve all but forgotten their origins.
The sun is radiant and pure. A breeze, perfect for drying linen wafts lazily along giving the entire day a timeless feel. As if everyone sitting out here has touched immortality. They’ll always be like this. Sipping coffees and smoothies. Eating fine paninis and wraps, bagel chips and gazpacho. Laughing and conversing, drinking and stuffing on a sunny day in a fine cool breeze. The cares and worries of this American life fall to the way side and they can each forget and live in this picture perfect reality for just a moment.
I’ve always enjoyed days like this. Most of my fondest memories have this back drop. The coffee shop in whichever city, the people talking, all trying to be the best. All trying to prove that they’re not the emotional wrecks we all are. And I sit, a student of the human condition and I don’t feel quite so alone although I never really talk to anyone.
I sip my iced coffee and shield my eyes to the sunlight with expensive although scratched glasses and pleasantly smile. One can’t help but to smile in weather like this. Blue skies and fluffy cotton suspended above. Seventy something all around, just warm enough to allow the breeze to cool a beaded brow. No matter what they say or how they try to convince themselves this is perfect weather. And this little coffee shop, one of countless many is a brief glimpse at utopia. Everyone happy and fed, leisure abounds. Conversations about nothing and everything, soon to be forgotten or destined to be remembered and called upon.
It’s summer on the first day of spring and that means something. We’ve hurt our life support system and everything is in flux. The first day of spring and the trees that grow from the sidewalks are already budding. Yet we sit and smile for what else can we do? I too hope to laugh in the face of oblivion when the time comes or at least go out with a grin and a twinkle in my eye.
The coffee is gone and I’ve got places to be in this concrete jungle. To spring, to summer, to life and to each other.
Seth and Pablo are joined by loyal listener and friend Victoria, they reminisce on Pablo’s drunken hijinks and discuss the douchyness of Ultimate Steve Rogers. And with broken hearts, a NEW giveaway winner is announced.