Tag Archives: Cafe

Dreading life like Cheers


I sit in a quiet Starbucks Cafe in Downtown Eugene on a fall like Sunday afternoon, but, it’s still a warm summer day in early August and the forecast is well into the low 80’s, as the clouds move into the heart of the Willamette Valley from the Oregon Coast – the sun plays hide and seek, has the threat of thunderstorms rigs with the Monday forecast theology of weather fanatics.

I sit perplexed into a new world vision, as I watch the various walks of life go about their daily lives with their family, friends and the daily throngs of strangers craving their critical needs of java addiction.

I sit at a small table with black leather seating – watching the various folks come into the cafe and I ask myself quietly – “who are these people and where do they come from?”

Eugene, Oregon, may be a three college town with the likes of the University of Oregon, Lane Community College and Northwest Christian University, which sits on small parcel of land, it shares with the University of Oregon – perhaps, the famed fictional college of “Faber Colledge,” which once stood in for the University of Oregon, during the filming of “Animal House” with the late John Belushi.

Stranger than fiction, there’s a story lurking in everyone who walks into the cafe on a daily basis. This may not be the place where, “Harry met Sally” or New York’s Central Park – perhaps, it’s the closest thing to the “Central Perk Cafe,” on NBC’s “Friends” television series?

Something, really perks my inspiration as a Writer, when I sit in places like Starbucks, Sizzle Pie or any other free style java joint with free WiFi to the internet, writers and bloggers work the daily realms of information from the Super Information highway and the internet, which has become the tool of the trade as writers and bloggers look to pen their works from their laptop, netbook, tablet, notebook or their favorite napkin from the nearest napkin dispenser – imagination wrinkles the lines of terror and has it keeps the reader hooked to the story and more.

I seem to think, the real Cheers in downtown Boston, Ma., shares some of the same characteristics from all walks of life, as they revolve through the door of the most famous bar in America.

I can only wonder, what life would be like in Boston’s most famous brew pub, “Cheers.”

Please don’t tell me you never heard the name “Cheers” – right? Not even, Sam Malone or Diane Chambers? Go figures, “Norm” and “Cliff” would have fretted about the ego of ol’ boy Sam playing for the Boston Red Sox before washing out the Red Sox bull pen to the Detroit Tigers on a 9th inning loss to the Tigers on a grounded fly into right field, suited by Hawaii’s Thomas Magnum, P.I., who literally slugged it hard and fresh to snag the win for the Tigers in the 9th Inning against the Red Sox.

It’s only exceptional, life in Eugene could be much like Cheers – but, there is only one problem. Both cities are on opposite sides of the United States. As I leave my dreaded life of inspiration behind at the cafe – my writer’s nest only leaves me with random room and thoughts, as if Sam Malone could’ve taught Diane Chambers some much needed virtues of life as she began her stint as a Cheers bar fly during the Cheers for Season of Episode One – ultimately, it was just the beginning of a virtue gimmick to dish Diane on the seasonal finale, eleven years later.

At least Norm was right along, Sam Malone was the luckiest son-of-a-bitch with his first true love – the love of his life, Cheers.

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Forty-five years of memories, brings out a youthful generation of memories


Eugene's Allan Bro's Coffee - The Beanery 5th and Olive St.
Eugene’s Allan Bro’s Coffee – The Beanery 5th and Olive St.

I sit in a familiar coffee house in Downtown Eugene on a chilly Sunday afternoon, as the air entraps Oregon’s famous fog, which likes to linger longer than its usual paid astronomical visits during the fall months – just as winter looks to start burst its door in less than a week – the chill factor of the winter cold isn’t much of a deterrent to those who live in the Willamette Valley of Western Oregon. Evidently, it remind of those days where the fall solstice is about to walk out the door and off the job and transforming its duties to the Winter solstice until Spring.

I’m not talking about the utterly winterstorms just yet, I’m admiring my past, when kids used to tease me back in the days of my childhood, when I had once predicted – it would snow that very day. They not shrugged and brushed it off, they made all kinds of noise and music, that it wouldn’t snow has I had predicted. But, the most amazing thing happen along the way, a few tad hours later, it started snowing as we were out and about on our recess either before lunch or thereafter, the flakes started falling slowly and the snow started piling up as the day went onward.

By the time, we got out of school – the city was heavily blanketed with white power – indeed the snow had fallen! What a beautiful sight to see as the snow stuck to the ground, my prediction had come true, it was later thought, I had some kind of magical power to predict anything? – but, it was the empowering thought and the wisdom of one’s sub-conscious of mind bogging knowledge of predictions, the psychic mind was at it’s best to begin with and with the help of some kinds souls across the universe, the prediction of snow that day was the presence of Christmas magic or was it?

5th Street Public Market with fresh winter snow.
5th Street Public Market with fresh winter snow.

Why I can’t remember the exact date or the exact year, when this story took place. But, it has been such an inspirational thought of my childhood, where I once stood my ground and predicting the most wonderful even in memory, while growing up.

I’m still reminded of the Winterstorm of 1969. I recently read an old newspaper clipping of how the storm came about in the middle of nowhere, as a Pineapple Express whirled up a fanfare of destruction and large amounts of snow in a phenomenon that could never be explained – A link to the Eugene Register Guard news story of the surprising impromptu winterstorm to ever hit the Pacific Northwest came about with chaos, school and business closures, since dumped nearly three to four feet of snow in parts of Eugene-Springfield, Lane County and a trail of destruction from Oregon to British Columbia.

West 13th Ave. Circa Jan 1969
West 13th Ave. Circa Jan 1969

It was January 1969, when it all happened. Three days of non-stop snowfall practically shutdown the entire region, as if it was just hit with one of those heavy banded Nor’easter’s, folks on the east coast experience each winter – but, it was close in a way, more of a Nor’wester to say in a way.

But the day, I predicted the winterstorm of the early 1970’s as a young child during my wonder years, I lay back in my office chair reminding myself – those where the days, when we were kids, had “the most wonderful time of the year,” as January 1969 took us into the post-Christmas winter wonderland.

I remember the roof of my grandfather’s barn caved-in – due to the heavy weight of snow, shattering the roof big time. It took my grandfather and my Uncle an entire Spring and Summer to replace the roof before the Fall semester kicked a few months later.

Nearly a half century of memories is a stark reminder, we live in a world where our lives are shared with the memories of our past and future generations.

Passing down the stories we tell from generation to generation is the historical significance of the life we live today. The future is very much different, than, what we experienced as a generation, that was born in the mid 1960’s and seventies.

I believe the twenty-first century is looking to leave a lasting mark, as a new generation of stories are to be told by the offspring of those we bear as children and their grandchildren – as we witnessed it today in our lifetime.

Future generations telling the stories of past generations to come.
Future generations telling the stories of past generations to come.

Perhaps, that was the prediction that endured me to reach into my past and tell the story of a generation, that lived through one of the most surprising snowstorms of their generation? How we perceive the future and to preserve it with the stories to be told is – something to be witnessed by the offspring we bear and that of their town as we muster into a later years as adults, parents, grandparents, writers and bloggers, it is yet to be carved and etched in stone has history is written.

Strange beings of the good kind


freelanceblogwriter  There are a lot of things in life that you just don’t get very often? You walk into a Starbucks Coffee Shop, the music is blaring, while customers tap their heels to the beat of the music, you settle with the urge of getting on your laptop computer out to check your days e-mail and of course your everyday addiction to Facebook – dun we all!

“Amazing, America’s addicted to technology and the internet!”

Continue reading Strange beings of the good kind

Blogging bastard gets stood up, by Outdoor writer!


writers_block1  Ok, there was talk between me and the Outdoor Writer friend of mine the day before Super Bowl Sunday, about us getting together for breakfast on Super Sunday – before the NY Giants were to play the New England Patriots in the Super Bowl.

Of course the Giants went on to beat the New England Patriots in Super Bowl 46!

Well, to make matters worst, Outdoor Writer thought, “I’d never wake it to the daylights of earth,” “well, I woke up at 05:30 a.m., on Super Sunday morning to get my the breakfast hang out by 07:30 a.m. to get my usual table, where, I pen the blogs at midnight mass on certain publishing nights – “Dat’s the blogging bastards way of getting business done in the middle of the night, cranking out blogs and burning the midnight oil, at the same time.”

I’m sure the Outdoor Writer got amazed at the witches hour of the day, when I fired off a military rant to the bunny dumper in his sack – “Moi, your fired, you actually screwed over your “drill Sgt.,” you blockhead!”

Now – getting stood up by the Outdoor Writer, calls for a partial free somewhere – However, I ended up buying someone else breakfast on Super Sunday, besides for myself – at least, for a friend, I work with on the Community Emergency Response Team with. “Now, that’s a great moi plan, Sir Newton,” as I thought.

At least I got the better part of it to hiking part of the Timberline Trail in the hills of my ole stomping grounds in the Churchill Neighborhood before the game! Thanks Thomas for nearly killing me on that hike! LOL…..

Now, I’ll think of a more satire way of dealing with the ole Outdoor Writer on the next ordeal – make him, buy the breakfast, new time around…..! “Dat’s the spirit, Sgt. Hulka!”

To be continued……

A chilly night in the cathouse!–No, not the bordello…


  This place seems to be a cat house on a Saturday night. You go to a Café with wireless internet and all a sudden, the place gets bombarded big time with customers out for the late night Saturday night life, on the town.

But, that’s not all – its bone chilly and the cold is haunting the night life as the city slickers storm the café for the sprinting of the Java Joe of the brewing pot of steaming coffee that has been filling the night air with the smell of fresh food and hot dicey brew of Java.

Seriously, I can’t wait until they start saying the word – S U M M E R in the forecast at the same time and keeping things dicey and freshly brewed into the warm heater months! Aye mate, that’s a moi of cracker jacks, when it comes time to shout out the moi of Java Jonas on a chilly fazed night, when the northern lights are dance to the rhythms of moist colors of the planet in the daring night sky.

Now, if the northern lights could reach into the Pacific Northwest skies of Oregon, the timing would be a stark reminder, that we’re not alone in the universe.

Now, about the pot of Java Joe.