So Long, Someday Cafe

Some of you are familiar with Someday Cafe in Davis Square, Somerville. For years, it's been a great place to have a cup of coffee with a friend while seated on a comfortable old chair or couch. Nothing spectacular ever happened to me in there. I didn't meet the love of my life or write a prize-winning novel while sipping on their delicious coffee. So it may be hard to understand why I got choked up when I read that Someday Cafe will close on August 12 to make way for a crepe restaurant.

I read the article about the closing like it was an obituary. The place had such character, and it was about a lot more than the old furniture and fantastic coffee, tea and pastries. It attracted people from all walks of life, and represented the diversity of Somerville better than most elected bodies represent their constituencies. There were intellectuals, students, artists, workers, hoi polloi, plebeians and screwballs of every sort. Whenever I was in Davis Square, I would duck into Someday and have coffee just to do some thinking and people-watching. If I ever had a chance at attaining enlightenment via meditation, it would have been in there.

There was a fellow with a white beard who was there quite a bit. He was always working on an elaborate, fantasy-theme drawing. Sometimes I would see a plain but attractive black woman who had mesmerizing eyes. If I didn't think I was such a loser, I would have approached her. And on the weekends, one frequently had to pass through a phalanx of dogs and their owners who were just outside, enjoying their caffeine treat. And there were always interesting conversations that floated through the air like the aroma of the Fair Trade coffee they served. It felt more like you were dropping in on a friend for a cup than going to a cafe.

When Clare and Melanie would come into town, we invariably met there. Sometimes, we couldn't get a seat, which is the only complaint I could have of the place; it was crowded in the evenings. I used to meet Adam there, just to talk. And Mary. And Eve. And Linda. And that's why I got emotional when I read of the imminent close. Every time I went in there, or just walked or drove by, I fondly thought of the past. As one gets older, there are fewer living connections between now and then. It makes me think of a "cairn." In Gaelic, a cairn is a pile of stones or a single large stone that marks a path or sits as a memorial. It would be nice if I could have a cairn or two to mark the places that mean so much to me. To remind me of a time when I would actually leave my flat and meet a young lady for coffee and conversation.

Am I being melodramatic? Perhaps, but as I said, this does bother me more than it should. An effort is being made to relocate Someday Cafe, and I hope that they do. And I'll do my best to remember the little cafe that meant so much to me. However, I know from ECT and psychiatric medication use that my memory is a fragile thing. Maybe that's why I'm so sad about losing the living reminder. Without the cairns to guide me, the world may become less familiar with each passing day.