Missing the Vibe

For me, it's always been a bit sad when the Belmont U. students leave for the summer.  Yes, things are less congested in the neighborhood, parking is easier, and the pace seems to slow down a bit.  What's lost, though, is the synergy that exists between denizens off the neighborhood and Belmont students.  There's a youthful, infectious energy - something that's palpable - that's created by the students when they're in school, walking across campus or through the neighborhood, or having coffee and studying in Bongo Java.

What's got mean a little down this morning - other than the rain outside and the fact that it's Monday ("'Rainy days and Mondays always get me down . . . ") - is that as I sit here in Bongo Java, sipping my coffee, the vibe is totally different than it has been all spring.  It's subdued.  Quiet, even.  The music is different, too, not the seventies songs that Michelle (Herbes) was playing every morning.  A graduate assistant for the cross country and track team, she's finished her two year tenure at Belmont and is returning home to Oregon soon.  

From what I observed, she appeared to be the catalyst for the upbeat vibe in Bongo Java this spring.  A connector that bound together the disparate group of baristas.  Today, none of the baristas or other employees are talking to each other.  As of late, they stood behind the counter, smiling and laughing, clearly enjoying each other's company and making customers feel like this was a place where you can get your day off to a good start.  Today, Michelle is gone and it's silent as a tomb.

The list of baristas who have temporarily brightened my mornings over the years is extensive.  The tough thing, though, is that working as a barista is the most temporary of jobs.  All baristas are on their way to somewhere else, to another life.  That's understandable but for someone who thrives on routing, on a certain sameness, it's not always easy to adjust.  

Over the weekend at the end of my month off social media, I connected on Instagram with Rachel (late of the Frothy Monkey), who had posted about how much she and her husband, Josh, missed their days managing Frothy Monkey.  The two of them made magic at Frothy Monkey.  For a time, it was my port in the storm on Saturday mornings when I stopped their for coffee before driving to Franklin to visit my mom at NHC Place.  She loved Frothy Monkey's cookies.  Those were tough mornings, so it was nice to visit with Josh (or Grant) on Saturday mornings, talk music or a little baseball, as I gathered myself to go see my mom.

The baristas at Bongo Java that fell in love with my boys and or family is legion.  Almost too numerous to mention, really.  I keep up with a select few on Instagram (George Dorrance, Ayla, EJ Holmes), though I never see them. 

Recently, a couple of the mainstays have left Dose, too.  It's interesting how in a small coffee shop, just one or two departures can change the vibe.  

Time to venture off into a rainy Monday, to Lebanon, to see if I can find a way to get my Tennessee Real I.D., whatever that is.