Today I’m sitting in the one coffeehouse in Ottawa IL that is not corporate, Jeremiah Joe’s. It’s housed in a former department store building, so it’s a large space with tables and comfortable chairs scattered throughout. My spot is a little drafty, located close to the large display windows. I’ve put on my coat.
I remember Famous Department Store, whose name is still outlined in the entrance to the building. We didn’t shop here a lot while I was growing up, preferring the less expensive Sears and Montgomery Ward’s, and often the deep-discount Bel-Mill (pronounced ‘Bel-Mell’) in Marseilles (pronounced ‘Mar-Sales’). There’s my obligatory useless reminiscence, which I feel is part of my reward for living 61 years.
I’m drinking an excellent latte, which tastes of an espresso blend with some real character. It’s cloudy enough outside that I’m wondering if we’ll get snow. The forecast says no. Ah, well, no white Christmas for us, but there’s Christmas music on the sound system and lots of decorations throughout Ottawa.
In a perfect world, there would be a university here, and I would be teaching at it. I would live somewhere in Ottawa, where I would be close enough to Chicago to occasionally pick up a play or concert. It is not a perfect world, however, and I work at a university in a town that could a little rejuvenation and some more quirk. We certainly don’t have ‘Feminists Against Fascism’ in Maryville MO. Or an independent bookstore, an indie coffeehouse or the jewel of the state park system. (To be fair, Maryville MO has a Starbucks in the university library, which makes it exceptional for both Starbucks and university libraries. Maryville also has a city-maintained park which features cabins, fishing, and a hotel.)
Maybe Ottawa would not be as cozy to me if I lived here. Maybe it wouldn’t feel like Christmas here if it were something I experienced daily. Maybe the lack of Trump signs here lulls me into a false sense of security. But people are hugging in the cafe, and the baubles hanging from light poles downtown add a needed festivity, and Wal-Mart is not the center of the community.
Let me soak up a bit more of the atmosphere and find myself window-shopping downtown. I need to store it up to last me a year or so.
Words Like Me 