Tales from Kushala Sip

     

Clouds in my coffee...

On a crisp fall Saturday morning, I decided to pack up my laptop and explore Stoneham Square in search of an idea for my column. I couldn't think of a better destination than the Kushala Sip Coffee House located on Main Street across from the Town Common.
     Inside the coffee shop, friendly faces greeted every customer as they arrived and departed. The atmosphere was comfortable and relaxing. I think I've found a new place to write since the total vibe of this undiscovered gem seemed to inspire creativity.
     My imagination was running wild. I glanced around at the other patrons giving each one a backstory. A solo young woman on a laptop was intensely researching something on the web. Was she a medical student doing homework perhaps? A young gentleman sat in one of the upholstered chairs in the corner. Was he emailing his Tinder date from last night, or filling out online job applications for future employment? A well-dressed twenty-something ordered a latte. She sat alone at a window table. She texted on her cell phone, anxiously awaiting a response from her fiance or maybe a secret lover. To pass the time between texting she intently read a novel called The Flick. A heavyset man in a jogging suit settled in at the next table with a hardcover novel, a lemonade and a large hot chocolate – a slightly odd combination but who am I to judge. Two women sat in the front window seats watching the activity in the square. They had a lot to see since the Food Truck Festival was setting up on the common.
     I sat admiring the interior design of the place. The décor is light and airy. I'd call it modern industrial chic. The exposed lighting and aluminum heating ducts juxtaposed against the butcher block tables enhanced the place a open concept feel.
     The subtle instrumental background music was the perfect accompaniment to my writing. The style seemed somewhere between Mediterranean and Middle Eastern to me. I'll have to ask my jazz player son for his opinion when he visits the coffee shop with me. I relaxed in the comfortable chair wondering how long I'd be able to sit here without ordering another Kushala Mocha.
     I'm not sure if it was the caffeine or the atmosphere, but as I typed the words came fast and easily. I made excellent progress on my writing without any distraction, except my own inquisitive glances around the place. It was getting considerably busy at the counter. Curious patrons came in off the street asking for menus and wondering what delights might be in store for them. The two women sitting beside me split a pastry with their Pumpkin Spice Lattes while discussing their day.
     As time went on, a steady stream of customers flowed into the coffee shop just as fast as the coffee drinks were flowing out of it. The staff behind the counter had no problem keeping up with the flood of orders as the line grew. Everyone was greeted with a polite “Sir” or “Miss” followed by a “Thank you” and “Be sure to come again”. I realized this was no ordinary coffee shop.
     I took one last look around, not wanting to overstay my welcome. The place was filling up and I felt I occupied my table long enough, although I got the feeling I'd be welcome to sit here all day. Through the window facing the square, I had a view of the orange and gold leaves on the trees in front of the First Congregational Church. An American Flag on a telephone pole slowly waved in the morning breeze as a funeral procession drove by in silence.
     It was time to gather my belongings and begin my Saturday errands. For a few moments I was able to forget about life's hectic pace waiting for me just outside the door. This was one cup of coffee I wished would never end.

The Rise of Fall

     

Ellie in the pumpkin patch. 

September disappeared quickly and took summer with it. The weather was so warm and so nice for so long, it seemed the Fall season might be postponed  indefinitely. Last week, October’s calendar page dropped down like a guillotine blade, cutting off any remnants of summer that were left behind.

     The change of seasons happened suddenly. There was no progression of cooler nights, where little by little our bodies gradually got used to cooler temperatures and crisper air. The hot sticky temperatures of August stayed with us all the way until the end of September.

     Even the leaves on the trees kept us guessing if autumn would ever arrive. My wife and I took a late September vacation to northern New Hampshire. Any other year the foliage would be at its peak color viewing – red, yellow, orange and gold leaves as far as the eye could see. This year, everything was still deep green. Nothing to see here, folks. I was mildly disappointed but I’ll take warmth over cold any day. I was excited to see my first bear as it scampered across the Franconia Notch exit on Route 93. Even though my wife was driving, I couldn’t grab my cell phone in time to take a photo. I could only watch the bear running wildly with raised paws as he clambered up a hill of green grass and disappeared into a thicket of trees.

     Back at home, my air conditioners have all vanished from my windows as if they were never there. I think we’re safely past any more nights too humid for sleeping. My hooded sweatshirts have made a comeback while my t-shirts and shorts have gone into storage in the attic until next May or June (depending on the weather).

     It seems like yesterday I was swimming outdoors. Actually, yesterday I took my granddaughter to a pumpkin patch to pick a prize-winner for our front porch. And on our front porch our Fall flag flies signaling the early beginnings of the holiday season. My wife decorated our fireplace with festive scarecrows, strands of autumn leaves and burnt orange mums.

     The sun is still warm and the leaves on the trees are still green. I hope they stay that way for a long time, but I know their fall is inevitable. I wish there was a way to stay ahead of them as they fall from the trees, but that's not going to happen. I refuse to rake my yard until the last leaf falls to the ground. Last year I refused to rake at all, but I paid the price after the winter snow melted and I had to call in the professionals to manage the mess left on the ground. I’ll try to avoid that this year but I make no promises.

     As the days get shorter, the mornings are darker and the evenings arrive earlier. There is less free time on my schedule as activities multiply. I don’t mind. Being busy keeps my mind off the whisper of winter looming on the horizon. I don’t want to rush things, we still have a long way to go before then.

     Right now I’m going to enjoy goblins and gourds. I can still walk in the sunshine without a jacket on. I welcome the wafting smell of a fireplace from somewhere in the night. I cherish the sound of crunching leaves beneath my Reeboks. The season is ripe with traditions, from baking apple pies to making caramel apple martinis. And my favorite Fall pastime : ordering a hot Pumpkin Spice Latte with a pumpkin muffin at Dunkin' Donuts. Cheers to Fall 2015! I hope it lasts as long as this past summer did – and beyond.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

On the road again...

     I decided to leave my job after working at the same company for 28 years. It  took some time to mentally prepare myself for the final step. I spent the entire summer thinking about it. I talked to my family, friends and colleagues trying to rationalize the outcome in my mind. It was the hardest decision of my life and yet it felt so right. I wanted to have no regrets when I finally took the last step and wrote my letter of resignation.

     I wanted to leave the company on a positive note. I wanted to leave on my own terms. I didn’t want to stay long enough to become angry and bitter. I have a number of years left to be a productive worker, and I'm ready for a new challenge.

     I don’t want to slam the industry I worked in. Let’s just say it's on life-support, and watching its slow death was killing me. I saw many, many co-workers terminated during years of “downsizing”. They were all great people. The company I worked for was family-owned, and it was reflected in the close-knit relationship among the core group of dedicated employees who have hung on through severe economic times. Pay cuts and benefit losses became all too real during the 2008 recession. The cost of living skyrocketed while my paycheck plummeted. Things were not going to get better any time soon (or ever it seemed to me). I’m not a doom-and-gloom kind of guy, but I saw the writing on the wall and I didn’t like what it said.

     Coworkers rallied together to get me to change my mind. “You can’t go.” “You have to stay.” “We’ll start a petition to keep you.” “Of course they’ll make a deal so you can stay.” I wasn't surprised that didn't happen.

     After lunch on a quiet Thursday afternoon, I walked into my manager’s office and told him I was resigning from my position. He was visibly shaken. I caught him off guard. I calmly explained the reasons for my decision.

     I offered some suggestions of what could be done to modify my position at the company in a way that might work for me. I waited for any hint of an offer to make up for the recent shortfalls the company has imposed on its employees. Unfortunately, there were no lifelines on the horizon and I was adrift at sea.

     Since I had no job lined up, I inquired about the possibility of collecting unemployment compensation. That deal wasn’t on the table since I was told my position had to be replaced because my work was so valuable to the company. Ironically, it wasn't valuable enough for them to keep me. In fact, my manager’s last words were, “Do you know anyone looking for a job? We have to get someone in here right away.” Sadly, I couldn’t think of anyone I would want to put in my position.

When my exit interview took place in the Human Resource office, I didn’t have a lot to say (which is unusual for me). I wasn’t about to throw anyone under the bus, although that seemed to be the point of the interview. When asked what I disliked about my job I said, “I’ve been here for 28 years, obviously I liked my job.”

     On my last day, I was genuinely touched at the goodbye celebration my friends put together for me. It was completely unexpected and extremely appreciated. Like so many old-fashioned traditions, I thought going-away parties were a thing of the past. The festivities included a cake with a cartoon likeness of me on it, a handmade photo-collage good-bye card and a caricature of me with sentiments signed by my coworkers. I appreciated the generous gift envelope I was given by the group. I received a framed commemorative newspaper front page, complete with personal photos and a story full of poignant reminiscing from my colleagues. Afterward, I was treated to an intimate lunch with a handful of close associates – a perfect ending to my long career at the company.

     I walked out of the building on my last day feeling upbeat and happy, the same way I walked in so many years ago. As the door closed behind me, I stepped through another door – the door to my future. I walked to the parking lot for the last time knowing I have the power to shape my future into anything I wish. I looked into the crumpled cardboard box I carried, full of 28 years of memories, and I suddenly realized my options are limitless.