From 1996 until 2004, the Appalachian Bean Cafe (called “The Bean”) was a remarkable social institution on Main Street in North Adams. It was the perfect place for a writer to hang out and get to know the city’s “old-timers,” who were there every morning, and just about everyone else looking for a good cup of coffee, a sandwich, or a place to meet friends. I probably spent two or three hours there almost every day I visited the city. It was owned and managed by Audrey Witter, a former social worker. Her first child, Hannah, was born in 1998, and spent most of her pre-school days at the cafe playing with her toys, and talking with the customers, who became in effect her extended family. Audrey sold the cafe in 2004, and became a school teacher.

Mornings At The Bean

Another glorious dawn
follows me over the mountain,
down to the valley,
and into the Bean.

At Tony’s table by the window,
Eric and the gang
play a sweet fiddle tune.
At another table,
Ziggy and Ron and Tommy
laugh and chatter and pick on Audrey.
She just smiles —
she is always smiling.

Little Hannah smiles that same smile,
as she circles ’round on her tricycle,
then climbs up on the chair next to Carl.
Her world is full of old men
who drink coffee.
Like her mother,
she will grow up loving people and life
in this quiet and gracious little city.

Familiar Things

The morning DJ is talking about an arctic air mass,
as I drive down Main Street
and park in front of The Bean.
On the mountain
a few trees are already red and yellow.
The cold wind sweeps me inside,
and I take my seat by the window.

Boys in baggy pants
chew gum
and shout at the girls
on their way to school.
The old man goes by
wheeling his dog in a shopping cart.
A student driver
darts out of Holden Street
and nearly makes a left turn into traffic.
Audrey bounces in
from across the street
and greets her customers
with a smile as fresh as a hot bagel.

The sun breaks through the heavy sky,
and I am grateful
for familiar things.

Listening

Today is as gray
as a cold cup of coffee.
The old guys fill up The Bean,
but a little more slowly.

A train rumbles by in the distance.
“Must be it’s gonna rain,
‘cause I can hear the train.”
No one even nods.

The coffee cups sit on the table,
as still as the hands around them,
and it starts to rain.

Audrey breezes in
with wet hair.
“How you all doin’?”

No one says anything;
this morning,
everyone is listening.