Eulogy for a Coffee Shop

My favorite coffee shop closed this weekend.

Staycation was special, not just because it was walking distance from my house, or because they served delicious, creative lattes crafted from homemade syrups, or even because of the cozy atmosphere inside and the hammocks and picnic tables beneath the big burr oak out back. Staycation was special because of the people, because of the community created by their warmth and friendliness and the genuine connections they made with their customers.

This coffee shop will be missed by so many. Soon, the little cottage they called home will be torn down so that a four-story apartment building can go up on the block instead. I can only hope a little bit of Staycation’s soul will remain, haunting the new construction with cozy vibes and the enticing aroma of their orange cardamom latte.

Yesterday, I walked over to get a coffee and hang out one last time. The place was packed with people coming to say goodbye. I had my copy of Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver with me. I read a few poems while standing in line waiting to order, until a stranger started chatting with me. I read a couple more poems while waiting for my drink, until an acquaintance from the neighborhood introduced herself and struck up a conversation. I read another poem while sipping my latte, until a friend came in and joined me. <– (These are all things that regularly happen at Staycation. It’s like a magnet for meet-ups.) In all, I read eight poems while I was there, and several lines stood out as being appropriate for the coffee shop’s last day. I underlined a few.

Later, at home, I re-read the eight poems and jotted down all the lines that seemed fitting for the occasion. Then, I rearranged them into a poem commemorating Staycation’s closing. Here is the found poem I created. None of the words are my own, except the title. The rest of the lines come from the following poems by Mary Oliver:

  • “Night Herons”
  • “Mornings at Blackwater”
  • “The Orchard”
  • “Sometimes”
  • “Invitation”
  • “From this River, When I was a Child, I Used to Drink”
  • “We Should Be Well Prepared”
  • “Meadowlark Sings and I Greet Him in Return”

Wisdom from Mary Oliver on Staycation’s Last Day, a Found Poem
- by Carie Juettner


hello, hello, and are we not of one family
in our delight of life?
do not walk by without pausing,
do you have time to linger
for just a little while?
sometimes melancholy leaves me breathless—
the way the days go by, never to return
in the terrible debris of progress.
I will grieve, of course, but that is nothing.
for years, every morning, I drank
a hint of heaven.
all winds blow at last
and the leaves, so pretty, so many
vanish.
one by one the birds
opened their wings and flew
and that was the end of them
as far as we knew.
what I want to say is this:
it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning.
you are capable of choosing,
so come to the pond
or the river of your imagination
and put your lips to the world.

* * *

If you would like to order merchandise from Staycation or sign up to receive news and updates about their journey, visit their online store or follow them on Instagram.

Genius or Ridiculous? You Decide.

One of my many Halloween mugs.

I love my husband soooooooooo much. And he loves me too, most of the time.

[Side note: Hubby is currently suffering from the poison ivy rash he got two weeks ago when I asked him to help me rescue a heron that was stuck in a tree over a creek. In addition to standing on the shore (in poison ivy), Hubby also ended up getting in a boat and then, ultimately, in the muddy creek itself to help save the bird.]

Hubby being a wildlife hero. Poison ivy already acquired in this photo.

Recently, I got the itch (sorry, poor choice of words) to start decorating for Halloween. Because I enjoy the holiday so much, a lot of people assume I’m the type who starts putting pumpkins on my porch in August, but that’s not the case. I love Halloween, but there’s a time and place for it. To me, summer specters just look sad. I wait for the ghosts and goblins to call to me, and they usually begin sending messages sometime in mid-September, or on a day when a cool breeze brings our first small taste of fall.

A couple of days ago, I got the itch, and it started with the Halloween mugs. (It always starts with the mugs.) So I asked my itchy husband to help me switch out the regular coffee mugs for the Halloween coffee mugs because he’s tall and they are stored so high up that even he needs the step stool to reach them. Of course, it’s not just the mugs. It’s also the plates and bowls and saucers and coasters and hand towels and tablecloths.

[Side note #2: Our house has a good amount of storage space, especially in the kitchen with all the high and very high cabinets. Plus, there are closets and attics and a garage and various drawers in various places. When we first moved in, I had trouble deciding where to keep my holiday decorations and ended up being unable to find some of them later. This is relevant.]

As Hubby was handing me Halloween mugs from the high shelf where they live between November and September, I suddenly remembered something. “I think that mug you’re about to hand me has a note inside,” I said. Hubby looked at me strangely, looked in the mug, then rolled his eyes and burst out laughing in a way that I could tell was at me rather than with me, because there was indeed a note that read, The Halloween towels are in the cabinet over the glasses.

Genius.

I asked Hubby why he was laughing since this was obvious proof that I’m a genius, but he shook his head and said, “It’s not like there are that many places to look,” to which I replied, “Yes, there are.” (Also, if I’d made him move the step stool six times to look in all the high cabinets, he would have been annoyed, and that is the truth.) So he got the rest of the dishes down and moved the step stool (just once) to get the towels from the correct cabinet.

[Side Note #3: Because my birthday is on Halloween, friends and family often give me Halloween-themed gifts. (Thanks, everyone! I love them!) Since I get them so close to the actual holiday, I don’t get to enjoy them very long before packing them up again. Sometimes I forget about new items until the following year, so unpacking my Halloween decorations usually comes with a few pleasant surprises.]

When Hubby opened the cabinet with the hand towels, he also found the tablecloths (check) and the wash cloths (oh yeah) and two more coffee mugs that apparently didn’t fit with the others (oops) and… a brand-new-still-in-the-package Halloween shower curtain! (Whoa!) I had completely forgotten about this new and exciting item that I got on clearance last November and was very happy to discover it.

Naturally, I asked Hubby to help me hang it in the bathroom because he can just stand on the floor and reach the shower curtain rod rather than balancing precariously on the edge of the tub like I would try to do. So he helped me hang the curtain, and it was much more trouble and took much longer than anticipated and there was much sighing on his part, but it looks awesome.

I can’t help but think it would look even MORE awesome with a matching Halloween bath mat…

At this point, Hubby retreated to his computer and I went to the kitchen to organize my mugs. That’s when I looked inside one of the ones that had been in the cabinet with the towels and found… another note. This one read, The Halloween tray is above the microwave! Halloween tray?! Oh my gosh, I had totally forgotten about the cool tray my friend sent me last year! The cabinet above the microwave is very high, so I fetched Hubby again.

“There was another note,” I said.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said.

I shook my head. “Genius,” I whispered.

After sighing a bit, he got out the step stool (again) and got the tray. As he handed it to me, he repeated, “You’re ridiculous.”

There were no more notes, so I believe I have now found everything that was stored in the kitchen. That means I’m done asking Hubby to help me reach stuff… until I’m ready to get the outdoor decorations out of the garage.

Reader, you have heard my tale. I now ask you: Am I genius? Or ridiculous?

*Some* of my beautiful Halloween mugs.

I would like to reiterate that I love my husband soooooooooo much. And he loves me, even though he refuses to recognize my genius.

(I also love Halloween stuff.)

(And there will definitely be more notes next year.)

A Mostly Beautiful Vacation, a.k.a. Things I Learned on My Trip to Maine

Last week, Hubby and I spent a few days in on Mount Desert Island in Maine. [Fun Fact: They pronounce it “dessert” like the cake, instead of “desert” like the dry climate, which really bothered Hubby. I suggested maybe they were pronouncing it like the verb, as in to “desert” someone, but he was not happy with that either.] It was a mostly beautiful vacation. We hiked in Acadia National Park, stared at gorgeous views, went on a ghost tour, ate lobster—they pronounced it “lobstah” but Hubby was fine with that—and enjoyed glorious weather with sunny skies during the day and starry skies at night and a temperature that was perfect for both coffee and ice cream (but not at the same time). It really was a mostly very beautiful vacation.

Mostly.

Before I tell you about the whale watching tour Hubby and I went on, I’d like to share some important lessons we learned during our trip (for educational purposes).

Things I Learned on My Trip to Maine

  • Always confirm what appliances your cabin comes with before buying groceries on your vacation.
  • Do not confuse the word “toaster” with the phrase “toaster oven.”
  • You can’t cook a frozen deep-dish pizza in a pan on the stove.
  • Late 40s is not too old to attempt to cook a frozen deep-dish pizza in a pan on the stove if you are tired enough from a day of traveling.
  • Late 40s is not too old to be so embarrassed over trying to cook a frozen deep-dish pizza on the stove that you dispose of any evidence of the fiasco, vow never to tell anyone about it, and refer to it only as the Frozen Pizza Incident from that point forward.
  • Sometimes, the ill-planned, embarrassing experience you *think* will define the worst moment of your vacation (i.e. the Frozen Pizza Incident) does not even compare to the actual worst moment of your vacation and becomes such a minor footnote that you forget about it for days until you re-read your trip journal. But by then, the other Awful Thing has happened, so you shake your head at the thought of the Frozen Pizza Incident being a big deal.
  • When the information about your whale watching tour provides helpful resources for combating seasickness such as Dramamine, ginger chews, and peppermints, you should purchase more than just peppermints.
  • When your weather app alerts you about a High Surf Warning, you should read it carefully.
  • When your whale watching tour is cancelled due to turbulent waters, and you rebook for the following day, and there is still a High Surf Warning the following day, you should give that considerable thought.
  • When you are getting on the whale watching boat, and a knowledgeable, seafaring person is standing at the front making announcement after announcement warning passengers that the seas will be rough and anyone who struggles with motion sickness should probably reconsider going on this particular boat tour, you should listen to her.
  • Reminding yourself that you don’t get motion sick in cars and have not been motion sick on the few small boats you have been on in calm waters should not lead you to believe you will not be sick on a four-hour boat trip in the ocean over high waves and choppy waters.
  • Never assume the number of sick bags already placed on the table for your convenience will be enough.
The only photo we took on the boat. This is when we still thought there was a chance we wouldn’t need these bags. So naive…

A Quick Summary of Our Whale Watching Tour (Because the Long Version is Not Fit to Print)

Seasickness is terrible. It’s a whole-body, all-consuming sort of disaster. Weak limbs, shaky hands, headache, roiling stomach… Ugh. And peppermints don’t do anything except make your vomit slightly minty. I did glimpse a couple of whales and a few dolphins, so… check. However, I saw a lot more seasick bags than I did wildlife. And I have no photos of the dolphins and whales because merely reaching down to get my phone out of my bag would have killed me. I can’t even fathom actually trying to look at a screen in that situation.

Before you think Hubby and I were just being weaklings, we were not the only people sick on the boat. It was a puke-fest. Many people were seasick. However, many people were not. Those people got to see tons of dolphins and whales. They got to move around and talk to their families and look through binoculars and drink sodas and turn their heads without worrying that it would send them into another round of barfing. One group near us played cards while the boat sped over choppy waves. On the way back, they opened take-out containers and ate dinner. I hated them.

When the seemingly eternal excursion finally ended, Hubby and I stumbled across the street to Agamont Park in Bar Harbor, where we collapsed on the grass and lay there amidst the picnickers and dog-walkers and ice-cream-eaters until we had the strength and balance to walk back to our car. We spent our last night in Maine in our cabin eating comfort foods, discussing our poor choices, and watching soccer. At one point when one team was relentlessly attacking their opponent’s goal, making multiple attempts to score, the announcer said, “The attacks just keep coming! Wave after wave after wave…” and we burst out laughing because it made us both sick just hearing that.

The next day, we packed our bags, tidied our cabin, took the trash with the forgotten Frozen Pizza Incident evidence to the dumpster, and began our travel day home, feeling extremely hungover, dehydrated, and exhausted.

That boat ride was a terrible experience. Getting sick in public, for hours, in a place where you’re trapped is something I never want to repeat. But it was still a beautiful vacation. Truly. After all, I did see a whale, and Hubby and I survived. Our stomachs survived, our bodies survived, and our relationship survived. We got queasy together, we puked together, we laughed together, and we comforted each other as much as possible, which mostly entailed him clumsily patting my back with one of his numb hands and me occasionally saying, “Are you okay?” and him replying, “No.” At one point, he told me he wanted a divorce since the whale tour was my idea, but he hasn’t followed through with that and I’m hoping he’ll forget.

My last piece of advice to you is this: Marry someone who you can puke next to and still love the next day.

In motion sickness and in health…

And now, some poetry…

The boat tour inspired me to write the following limerick:

In Bar Harbor, me and my hubber
Took a boat to see beasts made of blubber, 
But the sea threw its punches
And we tossed our lunches, 
Confirming that we are landlubbers.