Creating Community
This morning as I was loading freshly made croissants and pastries into my car for a friend, I spied two young men across the street, standing on the corner, stretching before or after a run, I couldn’t tell. I recognized them as belonging to a group of young men we used to call the soccer boys (because some of them played soccer) who would predictably come every Saturday morning ten years or so ago, it might have been less, it might have been more, when I used to own a bakery here in town.
Our biggest day, other than the usual holidays, was always Saturday. Right before opening time, I would hit play on the Buena Vista Social Club Compact Disc in the player (remember, this was a few years ago) and as the first chords of the song, Chan Chan, would start, we would be ready for the busy morning. When we opened our door at 8 a.m., people would be lined up, waiting for the sound of the lock opening. Sometimes we would open it very quietly and surreptitiously and wait to see how long it would take for the first person in line to come in.
As people slowly trudged in and started a new line inside, we recognized the usual faces and, from my perch by the woodfired oven, I would smile or wave to those who caught my eye. Though I never counted on it, it was always busy. We even made up categories for the level of busyness: busy, crazy busy or crazy crazy! The morning would unroll mostly smoothly with the usual chaos thrown in.
Back in those years, on most Saturdays, we would always hope to see the soccer boys. Made up of mostly young men from the college soccer team or friends thereof, they would predictably come every Saturday morning to Rachel’s Bread and sit together at a table with coffee and pastries and frittatas and such. They would sit for a while and chat and enjoy each other’s company. The group members changed from Saturday to Saturday but there were always happy smiles in the kitchen when the soccer boys arrived. This ritual lasted for at least several years and membership changed as some young men moved away or married or adopted other rituals. But in my mind, I can still remember looking in on the seating area from my spot behind the counter and seeing a group of energetic soccer boys gathered around a table, laughing and talking.
So I couldn’t help myself. I walked over to Sam and Nick and asked them if they were done exercising and if so would they, the soccer boys, want to pick out a croissant from the back of my car for old times’ sake. Their eyes got bright and they said, “We were just talking about those days.” They walked over and when I opened the hatchback, Sam said, “That smell.” And then picked out a chocolate croissant and said, “And it’s still warm.” Then Nick picked his out. And they both thanked me profusely. I told them that I almost didn’t approach them because I thought they were just starting on their run. Nick said,”It wouldn’t have mattered. Run or not, we would have still taken one.”
After they left, all I could do was smile and smile and cry and smile. I need the reminder of this type of community these days. Thanks to all the “soccer boys” and others who created community at Rachel’s Bread back in the day. And what an awesome way to begin my day.
