A Tale of Two Coffee Shops

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way -

My new residence is located almost exactly between two coffee shops. They are about 1 mile from each other, but culturally, on opposite sides of the world.

If I walk northeast ½ mile I arrive at Le Grande Orange. www.lagrandeorangepizzeria.com Le Grande Orange is about the swankiest little coffee shop/market/pizzeria you’re ever gonna’ see. And the people who patronize this establishment are beautiful – as are the people who work there. Well dressed and groomed, it is a great place to see and be seen. Morning dress code is workout-type cloths - the kind that cost more than my work cloths. Great music, cool greeting cards, gormet morning sandwiches. Very pleasant.

If, however, I walk southwest from my home about ½ mile I arrive at Mama Java’s. www.mamajavascoffeehouse.com The people who visit Mama Java’s are an eclectic group. The bookish girl in the corner reading poetry. The chatty middle aged gentleman who has gray hair in a ponytail, dancing eyes, and jeans with holes in them. On Fridays and Saturdays they always have live music in the evening – mostly of the folk-bent. It is not where the beautiful people hang out. It is, however, where the interesting people hang out.

I am, of course, drawn to both of these worlds. It makes me realize that in so many ways life never changes after junior high. It starts in junior and senior high - the social push-me-pull-you between various groups - friends in the band, friends who were jocks, and friends who were not very popular but were highly intelligent. And it is socially disturbing how most people don’t want to mix their groups.

Here in Phoenix, Arcadia is where the popular people have set down their roots. There is a social pressure to conform, keep up, drive the right cars, hang out with the right people, etc. There is a thinly disguised disdain for other areas of town and the people in them. Of course, Le Grande Orange is in Arcadia. Mama Java’s is on Indian School road and west of 40th street – outside of Arcadia. And I am halfway between them.

I’ve been entrenched in Arcadia for years - and uncomfortable about it the whole time. My residence is a weigh-station to another world; and it is not easy to transition from one to the other. At Le Grande Orange, I’ll run into people I know. I haven’t run into anyone I know yet at Mama Java’s. But I’m looking forward to that. So far I still feel out of place. No – that’s not accurate – I feel like I abandoned the place years ago. More of a “going home” and people are curious because I look vaguely familiar. As if I might belong there. Or I might not.

So, as I walk out the front door in the morning, I have my choice of which world to begin my day. How much do I hang on to my old world? How much do I want to hang on to my old world?

For now, anyway, I need them both. And, it is a far, far better thing that I do, than… OK, a little dramatic. But you get the idea.