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.