Finding Community

San Juan, Puerto Rico
June 30, 2007
Saturday

Today, I missed Shirley Kenyon’s Pantry restaurant. As I sat in “La Bombonara”, a 1950’s style lunch counter in old San Juan, Puerto Rico, I found myself missing Shirley. Tracey and I were dressed for the day! She in her white long slender city shorts and a black shirt v-ed in the back and front showing her neck in a way that made her have a sophisticated sexiness. I, in a white linen skirt and a red blouse with bright white polka dots. My red wooden bottom shoes tied securely around my ankle. We looked far more sophisticated than I felt. The people around us were mostly Puerto Rican and looked on at us with almost pity. Believing that we must feel awkward in the small lunch counter stretched before us. Yet, as I scanned the people, I realized this is exactly the kind of place that makes my heart settle. I thought to myself, give me a half an hour, and the workers that rush to serve me will realize the exact person I am. How could they not see, if they really looked into my eyes, that I was one of them, just a small town girl, who would prefer bad coffee and great home town company to the five star resort the Koffman’s previously owned with the casinos and swim up bars. Our waiter treated us suspiciously as we gently tried our Spanish and ordered two coffees with cream and mallorcas ( a delicious Spanish pastry with swiss cheese and topped with confectionary sugar). I looked deep into our waiter’s eyes, seeing his well worn white shirt. The shoulder singed from having the iron on it for too long. I was careful to say please and thank you, trying to actually feel the pulse of the place. I half chuckled at the fat American couple, who was smirking at their find. This treasure of a place in the middle of such tourism of Pizza Huts, Hard Rock Cafes and McDonalds. I half pitied the couple as they took pictures, as if believing they were somehow missing the point. Of course, in less than a half an hour I would be doing the same thing. Oh we are imbeciles, aren’t we!? I could almost hear them exclaim, “Oh what a quaint little place, what a find!” Truly, it was! But my mind drifted back to Smithville Flats and I thought, “I miss Shirley’s!”

I instantly wondered if I would ever find a place that was so uniquely mine, and still so uniquely my community’s? How many Saturday and Sunday mornings had I wandered into the shabby diner with poorly painted walls and grease covered stoves and sat down in the un-matching vinyl covered red and brown chairs? How many weekend mornings had I gotten a diet coke, coffee and ham egg and cheese muffin sandwich with home fries. I would not even have to order, Michelle would greet us with half a smile, ready to give and put up with some weekly harassment. Her hair dyed a blonde, carefully curled to make you feel as if you had stepped back into the 1980’s. My sister refused to go there. Stated her abhor ration at the fact that we would bring Norwegian guests there to eat. Yet it might be one of my favorite memories of the last decade. It was there, that I would listen to hunting stories. My favorites were the rare times when Cole would be there, making me giggle like a 7 year old. His demeanor and stories would make my heart nostalgic, as if making my heart wonder why I hadn’t chosen a life for myself that caused such joy? How many Sundays had we met Jake and Veronica, in order to just chat awhile. I am not sure what we even talked about. But one thing I know for sure, when I sat there, there was no where else on the planet that I would have rather been.

But here in Puerto Rico, the coffee was actually fantastic and the mallorcas melted in my mouth and as Tracey chatted with an artist who had just relocated from New York City. I thought, “I will be able to find the life I want!” How crazy I was to think that Tim was the only person who would treasure Shirley’s pantry. There will be more. Oh Shirley, you lived a life! A life for the community. How many days did you devout to cooking and providing a place for the community to assemble? I miss you. Shirley died in May. After Lina and Morten left, I never returned to Shirley’s again, and somehow living with my Mom and Dad, there was no need to return. Yet today, I feel nostalgic for the place. Wish that there could be one more fall when I donned my gray wool turtleneck sweater and my timberland hiking boots, my hair twisted into a ponytail, to head to Shirley’s. Not knowing what people you may sit with or talk to. Not knowing if you would get the opportunity to see your worst students working diligently to clean dishes. An opportunity to make a connection, to throw them a smile, a smirk. Never knowing what parents you could conference with. I can’t help but wonder, where is my life going from here? Where do I want it to go? I want it as vast and as encompassing as any millionaires, yet I can’t bare the thought of losing the simplicity and joy that accompanies a day at a rustic and dingy community diner. Please Milan, be that place to have a new beginning.