Great places to be renewed

I received a great little gift on a recent visit to Red Rooster Coffeeshop in Aberdeen, SD. It came in the form of the hand stamp used to indicate that I'd
paid the cover charge for the evening's concert. The stamp on my hand was the
word "renewed."

Isn't that a terrific message, I thought. Isn't that exactly what's supposed to happen in a coffeeshop. You experience a little community and...you are renewed. That's exactly what I look for when I visit a coffeshop, whether it be in Culver City or Iowa City, Decorah or Dubuque, Oakland or Mineapolis.

Bill's Coffeeshop in Iowa City offers this; so does Uptown Bill's, its crosstown cousin. I've written about other coffeeshops in other cities where I found this spirit; now I'll add Red Rooster to that list. What makes these and other coffeeshops special is the sense of community one finds there.

You can get coffee, even good coffee, lots of places. But you can't get "renewed" at just any coffeeshop. It's something to keep in mind as you travel duing this year.

As you travel, be sure to let us know about coffeeshops where you find a sense of community. We'll pass the word along to other readers so they, too, can be "renewed" as they go from place to place.

Imagining the modern Cupid

What if Cupid were around today? You know Cupid, the chubby little one with the wings who spreads love with a bow and arrow. What would Cupid look like ifhe (or she) were around today? What would he drive (wwcd)? How would Cupid spread the magic of love in our time? Here's your chance to use your imagination. We'd like to hear your ideas.

A large cup of coffee quotes

Coffee on an airplane always smells bad. Whenever it is served, suddenly the whole cabin stinks of it. -- Jonathan Carroll

Almost all of my middle-aged and elderly acquaintances, including me, feel about 25, unless we haven't had our coffee, in which case we feel 107. -- Martha Beck

In my next life, I want to be tall and thin, parallel park and make good coffee. -- Paula Danzinger

Notable coffee, tea and food for thought -- motto of Quotations Coffee (Brevard, NC)

Coffee stains on the flip-down trays mean to the passengers that we do all our engine maintenance wrong. -- Donald Barr

Support counter intelligence -- Sign on a tip jar in a Los Angeles coffeeshop

Thought you'd be interested in these

"America's biggest export: gun violence" is the title of the msot recent issue of First Monday, the online column of Iowans for Prevention of Gun Violence (IPGV). You can read the column and others at the IPGV website: www.ipgv.org.

Kelly Dobson continues a chronicle about his work with homeless individuals in a weblog. His latest entry features Willie in a column titled "A lumbering sort of way." Read his blog at: http://homelessinminnesota.blogspot.com.

Ed Foster is the knight in shining armor for computer users. His recent columns include "Unsettled by the Sony settlement" and "Optout prescreen revisited."Another looks at spyware embedded in many software programs. You can read Ed's Gripe Log at www.gripe2ed.com.

"I'm watching you" is the title of a story about government spying on Iowa peace groups, including members of the Catholic Worker. The story is in the Jan. 12 issue of Cityview, the Des Moines alternative paper. You can read it at: www.dmcityview.com/cover.

Life's a bench

There is an amazing bench just outside Bill's Coffeeshop on the University of Iowa campus in Iowa City. Each day this bench serves a stage for an array of the dramas which make up human life. Right next to the sign for North Hall, this bench seems to draw people to it.

I have seen love bloom and love fade on this bench. I have heard parents reassure and seek reassurance. I have seen people sitting, standing, sleeping and even dancing on this bench.

Often, this is a wonderful experience to watch -- like a couple soaking up the sun and each other on a warm autumn afternoon. Or the daughter reassuring her mother that, yes, she is eating right.

Sometimes, the bench is a stage to discuss moving experiences. "It was awesome," I have heard many times as I passed by. And, often, and simply: "Cool." People curl up and stretch out on this bench as they consider something as profound as the meaning of life or something as silly as the direction of a little beetle in front of them.

Other times there is humor in the interaction on this bench:

+ Two people sharing a rapidly melting ice cream + A couple trying to stay dry by huddling under a plastic garbage bag during a summer shower

+ A guy singing along to his headphones + A weary soul reassembling his bags of cans for recycling.

Then there are moments when I walk by and wished I had a box of Kleenex. One recent evening I heard this fragment of a conversation: "Are you saying that we're not going out anymore?" I saw a young woman standing on the bench talking. But at first, it appeared she wasn't talking to anyone. But then I caught the light of her cell phone and knew I was listening in to a break-up.

Another night a young man sat on the bench talking on his phone. I caught just one line: "I think we should just be friends," he said.

I'm not sure what makes this bench special. It doesn't have a great view or the most comfortable seating among the benches near North Hall. Yet there is something which attracts people to this particular bench.

I've not seen so many slices of human life on other benches around that campus. People seek it out day and night to talk -- really talk. Perhaps there is a little spirit of Bill Sackter in this bench. See what you think next time you walk by.

Inspirations for building community

If you take I-80 all the way to San Francisco, the very last exit will take
you right into the Haight-Ashbury district. That is where the freeway ends and
so many dreams have begun.

Haight is a street of dreams. Why? Because once, for at least one summer, there was an awesome sense of community there.

But the legacy of that Summer of Love has gotten all confused in the years since. If you go to the Upper Haight -- Haight and Ashbury -- the legacy today seems to be one of bumper stickers and tied-dyed T-shirts. People are literally shopping for a sense of community.

If you go to the lower Haight -- say Haight and Fillmore -- you'll find
another group of people looking for community, too. But too often their hopes
for community have been crushed in a struggle just to stay alive. Some in the
lower Haight are young and have run away. Some are trapped in poverty. Some have been reduced to begging.

I think every community has its Haight and the very same divisions within it. It's certainly true in each of the communities where I have lived.

But lately, I've also been thinking that it could be the task of social workers to create a new Haight, a true Haight. We could do this wherever we are.

We could say to those who are shopping for community: This is not something you can buy. It is priceless. We could say to those who are struggling just to stay alive: This community wants you, wants to help you restore your dreams.

Perhaps, just perhaps, we could bring together those who are shopping and those who are struggling. They would have a lot to give each other.

One could easily say that's not a very realistic idea. And it does seem kind of crazy if you look around and see the divisions in our communities.

Yet isn't that exactly what Jane Addams set out to do when she started that settlement house. Isn't that what she meant when she talked about the importance of a "mutual exchange" among the citizens of a community.

Mondays at Bill's Coffeeshop: There must have been a party

One Monday morning awhile ago, Pat and I arrived about the same time to open the coffeeshop. We found some of the usual items outside the door:

+ A fork wrapped in a napkin with a note reading: "I forgot I had this. It was buried in my desk." Apparently the person who returned the fork had some doubts about whether we'd offer forgiveness for keeping a fork so long. How did we know that? The note was unsigned.

+ Two flyers advertising upcoming events.

+ Copies of two newspapers to be put on our periodical shelf.

+ A box of books with this note: "Hi. I came by about 9 pm on Saturday night to drop off these books. But there wasn't anyone here. So I just left them outside the door. Hope that's okay." That note, too, was unsigned.

After we moved all of this out of the way, Pat and I opened the door. We stepped inside, turned on the lights and looked around. "I think we missed another party," I said, nodding towards to coffee cups, pop cans and candy wrappers on the tables.

We both laughed and set about cleaning up after the "party."

It's like that many weekends. It seems that there must have been a party inside the coffeeshop. And it's certain that we missed it.

Our first customer that morning came in carrying a box. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here," she said. "I've been saving these for you." She continued
talking as she handed me the box. "I can't stay. Have to get to class."

I opened the box. It was full of rubber bands, paper clips and those twist ties from loaves of bread. Of course, there was a note: "I'm moving soon and didn't want to take these with me. But I couldn't throw them away. I figured
Bill's could use them."

That wasn't the first time we'd gotten a gift of recyclables. Regularly, customers have brought us things they couldn't use -- but couldn't bear to throw away either. We've received more of those AOL CDs than anyone (probably including AOL). We've been given enough of those "clamshell" take-out containers to build a small barn.

And we have a great assortment of odd household items which customers have
donated to us. You see those things for sale on the tables and shelves around
Bill's. If you've been around for awhile you probably remember some of the
craziest: the train alarm clock, the pig timer, and the singing walleye.

Customers are always so grateful when we accept these donations of recyclables. They tell us they've been saving these things for years, but
never knew exactly what for. It turns out they've been waiting for someone to
suggest how to use these items again.

But I think there's something more there. I think people bring these things to Bill's because they know there are people here who will pay attention to them. I think that's what a local coffeeshop is all about -- paying attention to people. Oh, I know Iowa City is supposed to be a sophisticated place. Count up all the PhDs and the high-paid executives and you'll see that we have more than our share for a city our size.

But let me tell you a little secret I have learned at Bill's. Underneath the shiny surface we like to show the world, Iowa City is still a small town, full of small town stories. There's a little of the small town in all of us -- just waiting to get out, hoping to be discovered, aching to be found.

Bill's Coffeeshop is one of the places where that sense of a small town can come out. It's a place where people get to tell their small town stories. And it's a place where there are people who will listen to those stories.

King Day: Holiday for the common good

What I like best about the Martin Luther King holiday is its emphasis on community - on the common good. That makes it unique among American holidays.

If one thinks about the other holidays -- Christmas and Thanksgiving, for example - the emphasis is on turning inward to family and friends. In many ways, that's easier to do.

It is much harder to reach beyond the regular ties we have - to reach across lines of race, religion and ethnicity - to establish new friendships, new connections.

The MLK holiday (Monday, Jan. 16) gives us an opportunity -- an "excuse" if you will -- to start. One has to be careful, though, that the holiday is not reduced to telling old stories about the civil rights movement. Remembering the "good old days," and stopping there, is especially a hazard among people my age. It's easy to fall into that. One reason is that things seem so much clearer now -- in retrospect.

It is a lot harder to improve race relations and search for the common good right now. Things seem so much more murky when we are in the midst of them.

During the 10 years I edited the Palo Altan newspaper (Palo Alto, Calif., 1979-1989) we tried to do something special each year for the King holiday. One year we published a special section called "Resources for teaching interracial understanding." Another year it was a section called "Resources for teaching peace."

Each year we searched for a new quote from King to publish on the front page of the issue nearest the birthday holiday. We tried to choose a quote that was lesser known, rather than one from the "I have a dream speech" or the "Letter from a Birmingham jail."

I think my favorite of those we published was the one we used in 1969. It was excerpted from a speech King gave shortly before his death.

"Every now and then I think about my own death. And I think about my own funeral...I don't want a long funeral. And if you get somebody to deliver the eulogy, tell them not to talk too long...

"Tell them not to mention that I have a Nobel prize. Tell them not to mention
that I have 300 or 400 other prizes...

"I'd like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King tried to give his life serving others. Say that I was a drum major for justice, say that I was a drum major for peace, say that I was a drum major for righteousness and all of the other shallow things will not matter.

"I won't have any money to leave behind. I won't have luxurious things of life to leave behind. But I want to leave a committed life behind."

Besides the opportunity to reach others and make new connections, the King holiday also offers us a chance to stop and take stock. How are we doing, both as individuals and communities, when it comes to creating an environment free of racism and prejudice?

There remain many personal and institutional barriers to this. We are still so
easily isolated by race in our neighborhoods, in our jobs and elsewhere. And there is the related problem of economic isolation.

Making change is difficult. A person can easily become weary and discouraged. But King's words and life remind us that it is possible -- and worth the effort.

Giving peace a chance

COULD 2006 be the year? Could this be the year we talk about peace? Out loud? To each other?

It's not that we don't think about peace. Many of the holiday cards we send include wishes for peace. We sing about it, too. John Lennon's "Imagine" is sung at many a New Year's Eve event.

But the truth is that we don't talk much about it. For example, peace is one of those topics which gets little discussion in our schools. Our study of history is primarily anchored by wars. Very little attention is given to the years between the wars.

Another example: Did you study peace in college? Or ever take an adult education class devoted to peacemaking? It's not likely. There are only a few peace studies courses in the entire US. And even fewer peacemaking courses in adult education programs.

OUR OWN field, social work, was founded by women and men who devoted much energy to peacemaking - from the neighborhood to the world. Jane Addams received the Nobel Peace Prize for her extraordinary peacemaking efforts. Addams and others founded the Women's International League for Peace and Freedom. Jeannette Rankin, another early social worker, devoted her Congressional career to seeking foreign policy alternatives to war.

But very little of this history makes its way into social work classes. Policy courses and textbooks devote little time and space to social work's legacy of peacemakers. Community practice courses spend little time on peacemaking.

I don't think this neglect of peace studies comes from a belief that war is preferable.

Rather, I believe it comes from the idea that peace is impossible. One look around our planet offers plenty of evidence for that view. There are so many wars in so many places.

Also, a significant share of the US economy is dependent on war. Our country is the leading arms merchant in the world.

But those things will not change unless we talk about alternatives to war. Let's make this year the year we talk about peace. We can look back at social work's founding mothers and fathers for some inspiration. We can look at others who spent their lives seeking peace instead of waging war, from Martin Luther King to Nelson Mandela, from Cesar Chavez to Dorothy Day.

We can also challenge the exclusion of peacemaking from our classrooms and our communities. We can ask: Where are the peacemakers in our studies? Who are the peacemakers in our communities?

Finally, we can be inspired by the example of Bill Sackter. He is one peacemaker who has touched the lives of all who are reading this Newsletter. His life andspirit offer us a place to start on a journey of peacemaking.

TIME FOR MORE
COFFEE QUOTES

Coffee in England always tastes like a chemistry experiment
-- Agatha Christie

Never drink black coffee at lunch -- it will keep you awake all afternoon
- Jilly Cooper

Good coffee is like friendship: rich and warm and strong
- Pan-American Coffee Bureau

Free yourself from the slavery of tea and coffee
- William Cobbett

A holiday story: Dan and the two Zachs

"HEY mister, are you from Iowa?" I looked around and saw a young man crossing the street towards me. I didn't get a chance to answer.

"I used to have a friend in Iowa, in Iowa City. Do you know that place?

"I lost touch with him, though. I lost a lot of other things, too. All I've got now is my skateboard and this." He held up a battered and bulging backpack.

It was a cold December day, right after Christmas. There wasn't any snow yet, but the wind made it clear this was certainly a winter day.

"I'm Tom," I said, holding out my hand. I'm from right here -- Minneapolis. The car's borrowed. Mine's getting fixed."

"I'm Dan, sorry about the car. That sucks.

"I used to live near here in a great old house. Me and two friends found it. It was empty, so we moved in.

"It was great for the summer -- and until the police came. They made us leave.
Actually, we snuck out the back just as they were coming in the front."

"Where are you staying now?" I asked.

"Wherever I can," Dan answered. "You might say that I'm couch surfing. I stay with friends for a week or two. But then I leave.

"I just left the last place I was staying because I overheard the two people living there arguing about how long I could stay. I just picked up my stuff and left. Didn't even say goodbye.

"I called my mom and she said I was welcome to come back home. But Minneapolis is my home now. I don't want to go back."

"Where'd you grow up?" I asked.

"Small town in Wisconsin. Nothing to do there, nobody left but old people."

A gust of cold wind chilled us both. "Say, I'm headed into that coffeeshop," I said. "Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

He responded with a worried, almost frightened look. "It's okay," I said. "You can check me out with the people inside. I've been coming to this place for years."

We went inside, got our coffee and sat down under a sign which read: "A 4-H member lives here." I looked up -- and sure enough -- the Minnesota State Fair 4-H fan was still there was there, too; I'd put it there five years ago.

"SO WHAT'D you do for Christmas?" I asked.

"I spent the day with a friend's family. It was great. They had a stocking for me and everything."

"Why didn't you stay there for a few days?" I asked

"I didn't want to be a bother, you know, in the way and stuff."

There was a silence between us for a few moments. I didn't know what to say; I guessed Dan didn't either. Around us, I could hear people talking. I heard music playing, too, but I couldn't quite make out the words to the song.

"WHAT are you going to do now?" I asked.

"I wanna to go to San Francisco," Dan said. "I have a friend there who says that jobs are easy to get. And they don't have winters like this."

"Have you ever been to San Francisco?" he asked.

I didn't answer his question right away. I started thinking - thinking about how many times over the past 30 years I'd heard other young people say the same thing right here in this same spot. Including me. Since the 1967 Summer of Love, the draw of San Francisco has been a continuing siren song, calling Midwest youth.

I was also thinking about the young people I've met in San Francisco who were just as lost as this young man. They had gone to California with such great hopes, hopes for a new life and hopes for a fresh start. There was so much they wanted to leave behind. But too many ended up lost again, and this time so far from home.

JOE'S voice brought me back to the present. "Hey, Tom, are you okay? I asked if you'd ever been to San Francisco. You didn't answer me."

"Sorry," I said. It's just that, well...Yes, I've been there," I said. "And, yes, San Francisco is all the things you say and more. But it's not easy to make that move. I don't want to discourage you, but..."

Just then two other young men came up to us. "Hey," Dan interrupted, "it's the Zacks."

"Tom, I'd like you to meet Zack and Zack," he said.

"We've been looking for you, Dan," said one Zack.

"We're here to take you out to dinner," said the other.

"We found this church which has a free dinner tonight," said the first Zack.

"Guess I gotta go," Dan said to me. "Nice talking to you."

"Nice talking to you, too," I said. "Take care." Just then I remembered that I had a telephone calling card in my pocket, a gift for buying some Christmas gift. I took it out and handed it to Dan. "Call your mother," I said. "Let her know how you're doing."

"Thanks," Dan said.

Then he and the two Zacks were off to the church dinner. As I watched the three of them cross the street I realized the song we had been listening to in that coffeeshop was "American Noel" by Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer. It could havebeen an anthem for Dan and the Zachs:

Three wise men
Riding through the cold
Lost on some jolly street
With no warm place to go
They are looking for a manger
Or a sign in the lights
But they're a long way
from Bethlehem tonight

An evolution of the Bill's Coffeeshop Newsletter

Welcome to Coffeeshops and Community, another step in the evolution of the Bill's Coffeeshop Newsletter. The weekly email newsletter began in 2000 to promote Wild Bill's Coffeeshop and to celebrate the life and spirit of Bill Sackter, the original proprietor and the man for whom it was named. (You can see an archive of back issues at this website: www.uiowa.edu/~socialwk/bills/newsletter.)

Bill's Coffeeshop is a project of the School of Social Work at the University of Iowa (Iowa City, IA). It began in 1975 as an employment project for Bill Sackter, a man who came to Iowa City after spending nearly 50 years in a state hospital in Faribault, Minnesota.

Bill's life is celebrated in two movies, "Bill" and "Bill On His Own." His life story is also told in "The Unlikely Celebrity," a 1999 book by Tom Walz, a retired UI professor and friend of Bill.

Bill died in 1983, but the coffeeshop continued. It is still a part of campus life in Iowa City and -- in Bill's spirit -- employs individuals with disabilities.

The coffeeshop newsletter started in 2000 and has been published weekly since then. It now has more than 500 subscribers. Not too long after it started, the Newsletter began looking at issues outside the coffeeshop. Included: Abilities awareness, preserving downtowns, community-building, gender equity and more. It evolved into a place to talk about these issues, first in Iowa City and then in a broader context.

Now it's time for another evolution -- a blog. Think of it as a virtual coffeeshop where we can discuss together creating strong, tolerant and peaceful communities. Look for a new posting each week to get the conversation started.

Thanks for stopping by. See you again soon.