Coffee House Culture

Long Beach, California, is rich with coffee houses. All the old ones are still in place, and plenty more have popped up in the 12 years I’ve been gone. Like I did when I lived here and had tons of papers to grade each week, I’ve been spending a fair amount of time in them.

When I lived in Long Beach, back in 2003-05, I was sad. I had arrived married, but within a year my husband left. I made a pact with myself that I would say “yes” to every invitation, not easy for an introvert like me. Luckily, I quickly fell in with a group of fellow teachers: Lydia and Lina Llerena, who had grown up in Long Beach, Doug Eisner, and Russell Magerfleisch. This group was already spending a lot of time in coffee houses, we all lived within a mile of each other, and it was the advent of cell phones so we could easily make plans to gather. (Texting was not yet a thing. We made calls.)

We spent hours and hours and hours in the coffee houses of Long Beach. There was no end to the amount of hanging out we could do. Sometimes we’d break for dinner and then go to a movie. Lydia and her now-husband Jim were in a band and we’d go to the bowling alley to hear them play in a back room. We listened to a fair amount of live music, including shows at the Long Beach record shop Fingerprints. I wouldn’t say I got happier, but I was comforted and well companioned.

I also learned during that time that Doug and I traveled well together. He accompanied me on an epic Route 66 trip when I moved all my stuff from LA to Minnesota.

I have been in Long Beach ten days. The first morning I did a quick Yelp search for the closest coffee shop and found that Henry’s Market two blocks away had become Honeybee’s, a fine place for a cup of coffee and a bagel.

I have been to my old neighborhood coffee shop, Portfolio, three times. It looks fancy from the outside but it is actually the same tattoo-and-burnt-out-artist-looking haven it always was. The second time there, I ran into a guy who has been in two yoga classes with me. The friend I was with, Martine, was surprised and not surprised I knew someone. “Long Beach is a small town in many ways,” she said.

I ran into Suzanne Greenberg on consecutive days, Friday at Rose Park, a fancy coffee shop with the motto: “Welcome to the Process” on one wall. On the next day, a rainy Saturday morning at Bogart’s in Seal Beach, one town away, she was just leaving as we entered. I went there with Lydia and later Jim, Doug, and Tom met us and we went next door for tacos. Oh yeah. Long Beach living!

Suzanne and I already had plans to meet on Sunday at yet another coffee shop, Polly’s, whose mural is on the cover of her first book of short stories. Polly’s, with its outdoor patio and on-site roasting, was one of our favorite coffee shops.

On Tuesday Doug and I met Lydia at Peet’s on 2nd Street.

On days off from yoga, Doug likes to go to Viento y Agua, next door to the studio, because they have brewed matcha. It is kind of dark in there and the coffee was a little on the sour side for me. But the owner, Bella, is SO friendly and kind. I also ran into him while walking on the beach. He was in the other lane on a bike.

Time is running out for me to visit The Library on Broadway, but it is close. It could still happen.

I think Long Beach might have been where I developed my theory that all you had to do was leave your house for things to happen. Maybe that was Chicago, though I didn’t do a lot of hanging out in Chicago. Chicago is a small town in many ways, too, but the social engagements are more coordinated. Maybe even more purposeful. Unless you are just there to welcome the process. Right now I’m working on committing to going out more to volunteer in my own community and make more plans with friends.

I haven’t done the “work” I planned on doing this trip. There’s been a lot more social time, which has been wonderful. Lots of toasting and prayers of gratitude and just casual celebrating of my good health and our friendships. A trip to Disney Hall yesterday was a bonus, followed by a lovely dinner party hosted by Danielle where no one seemed to know a thing about football.

Here’s to coffee. And a place to drink it.