Milwaukee Specialty Food and Coffee

Reflections of Madison

For all of my real or perceived crankiness in evaluating Southern Wisconsin's coffee scene, rarely do I go to a coffeehouse and simply think it sucks. Right now, I'm in one such place. It's an old granddaddy as coffeehouses go, Madison's Espresso Royale. Seems like a tourist trap, and I guess this is a city of intellectual "tourists," as it were. For all my pro-pedestrian views, I'll cede the point that these kinds of dense, pedestrian-oriented areas don't exactly create Darwinian conditions for coffeehouses. Those Darwinian conditions exist in a place like Milwaukee County (at least west of the Milwaukee River), where customers can get in their car and drive to the next cafe relatively painlessly. I'm drinking a soy latte that at least makes up for in volume what it lacks in high-quality taste.

More discouraging was my visit to St. Patrick's Roman Catholic Church for the Saturday evening Mass. Speaking of differences between Madison and Milwaukee, another is that Milwaukee's Catholics (of whom I am not one, at least not officially) definitely enjoy the funkygroovy stream of Rome-based religion. You'd think Madison would be the more religiously liberal place, but this Mass had a markedly retro bent--I'd call it  dreary in a way I've never quite experienced in a Catholic church before. The hymns were sung at dirge tempo, and the priest gave this interminable, boring homily during which he lost his train of thought twice. It's odd that in a Madison parish, I would encounter the kind of tedium I grew up with in my childhood church.

In our times--and in this place--I find that particularly tragic. The momentous events of last year were broadcast from here to the entire nation, and perhaps even the world. In no place is the debate over renegotiation of the social contract playing out as much as it is here. I looked back with some sadness at the world as I saw it with nineteen or twenty-year old eyes during my first trips to Madison. Here more than anywhere, the civic realm, academia and religion coalesced into a soaring worldview, and it was thrilling to fantasize about it. Twenty years later, religion and the humanities seem to be asleep in the conductor's car, having long since relinquished the wheel. I think the challenge for those who feel passionately about such things is to find a way for the treasures of the mind and spirit to cut through the crapola--the phones and Facebook and, heck, the blogs, which all have their rightful place but have somehow turned us into a nation of inattentive live-ers.

God Aren't a Hipster

In Roman Catholic churches across the English-speaking world, awkward, antiquated language has been re-introduced. God is spoken of in the grammatical plural form, similar to the "royal we". ("Oh God, who have. . .") If such constructions were ever understood without mental contortions by English speakers, that time has long passed. Those who are not English majors and/or theology students consider archaic language bizarre.

In the leasing office trailer of a new apartment complex being built close to my apartment and office, full-color advertisements feature stock photos of childless, stylish and svelte hipsters. The promise of not having one's eyes sullied by the sight of a poor minority or lower-class majority person--and, above all, the promise of not hearing the cries of a baby--induce, it would seem, applicants to pay a premium amount of rent. The life proposition being offered to us single folk is that life is simply a mirror to reflect us back to us. When we reach middle age, we might generously take in a cute dog, like that shown in sidewalk signs for condo tours on weekends. (No judgment on that count--I ain't takin' in nothin'!)

The theme that seems to be conveyed is that we don't want to have to deal with non ego-fulfilling reality. There are a wide variety of perfectly legitimate reasons for remaining single, but too often, we singles don't want to have to invest our lives in a child who will likely return nothing but years, if not decades, of rebellion and revolt. On the surface, that's understandable. To be honest, we may also not want to invest our lives in a spouse who likewise may well give us years and decades of revolt--even if it's in doses of a day here and a night on the couch there. When we go into counseling or therapy, we expect all the little soldiers of our brains to be marching in lockstep. Even if there's a little part of us that gives us rebellion and revolt, we don't want it living in our place or even next door.

Reality, we stipulate, is to be this highly orchestrated, highly choreographed pageant with a regal God leading the show. Little do we imagine that God might live on the precipice between the fulfillment we seek (for the ego and otherwise) and the rebellion and revolt we avoid. After all, it is my belief that God could have created the universe such that we would all march in lock-step tribute, as if to some egomaniacal tyrant. But it is not so.

Rather, I believe, God reveals himself in human form as a person who met a cruel and violent death--from which he returned not with vengeance, but with the offer of a covenant (a kind of contract) for others to accept the prospect of goodness that is not returned by our earthly life. In our comfortable Western industrial existence, we forget that the sacramental ritual celebrated every Sunday in many churches is a kind of taking on of that unpleasant fate, or at least its very real possibility--not forever, but for now.

 

 

Clear Windows

Increasingly, my views of religious bodies are dovetailing with my views of the US service industry. I don't need to huff and puff on this blog to advocate that both become more nimble and responsive, nor do I need to underscore the urgency of doing so. I believe the hard numbers are so dramatic that these organizations will either adapt or face extinction. Even if we postulate a 10-year delay in Baby Boomer retirement ("until they drop," as a recent AARP survey supposedly found out), the replacements for the relatively well-off Boomers simply aren't there. The conditions that pre-Boomers such as my parents enjoyed, so favorable to wealth-building--early marriage and homeownership, high interest rates on savings, and (at least usually) low gas prices--are vanishing or have already vanished. From early indicators, I must ruefully predict that neck braces will become a common sight among those in charge of religious bodies and those who sell consumer goods and services, resulting from the whiplash they experience from hitting a solid object after 20 to 30 years of boomy momentum.

The only way out, in my view, is a radical change in thinking. These institutions will need to take out the stained glass--the perceptual filters they employ--and gain a clear, sober view of the world. They will have to gain an honest appraisal of what they are doing for the world on a personal and societal level. The white suburban consumerist society will run out of means--if nothing else, human means, as our birth rate is well below replacement levels. What we install in its place is up to us.

The Saturday Afternoon Leading Economic Indicator

You know the world has gone crazy when banks and churches start serving good coffee! Running my Saturday noonday errands, I mused that money--like religion--has now also become a consumer product. At the medium-sized regional bank where I maintain a couple of accounts, Aaron Rodgers is the spokesperson. At the credit union where I maintain my other accounts, members of diversity categories are featured in the stock photography that accompanies any textual message, no matter how brief. (Thankfully, they don't put stock photos on account statements, as mine would no doubt show a Richard Lewis-like figure slapping his forehead.) 

It occurred to me that perhaps a truer indicator of my wealth is how I feel at about this time on a Saturday afternoon. Am I happy that the weekend has arrived? Do I feel like a day of rest is welcome, without feeling overly drained? Do I feel like I gave the work week everything I had? If the answer to these questions is "Yes," I can feel content and comfortable that my week was well lived. This makes my perception of my economic life measurable and internal.

Though it doesn't cause me to walk around with a black cloud over my head, I admit to becoming increasingly concerned about the ability of governments such as Iran's to coerce world events and affect people's lives, even on an individual level. It seems to me that the most effective way to defend ourselves is to tweak our lifestyle a little bit--not in the sense of letting the thugs win, but in the sense of taking away from Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and his like the disproportionate amount of power they wield over global events. It's disturbing to think of the possible repercussions if Iran's leader gets a bee in his bonnet, and perhaps equally disconcerting to think how we arrived at this scenario in the first place.

 

 

Religion

(After 7 days, this article will be moved to the Spirituality Forum page.)

I'm sitting at Stone Creek Coffee in Glendale, where I've decided to focus on people-watching. Happily, the place is full and there are only one or two seats available. A picnic table full of loud high school freshmen (or so I guess) is right in front of me. They're attracting annoyed looks from the passing customers. They are boisterous and having racy conversations, but their language is clean. I'm struck at the lack of the glazed-over-eyes look that I so often see in college-age kids. In six or seven years, their age cohort will be binge drinking--with possibly tragic results. Even if not, their affect will no doubt be entirely different. I note, for example, that I'm almost never hearing the word "like." As they age, they may well become less articulate. 

I'm struck by a few things: these are North Shore kids, as was I. Middle school in Glendale is when things started to go south for me in a big way socially. Another is the fact that one dad came by to pick up his daughter, and he looked almost as old as my Dad. Age-wise, they could easily be my kids. Aging parents will definitely be a megatrend of the near future. After all, if I and a partner conceived a child tonight (which seems, um, unlikely), I would be 57 years old when the child reached 18. Not an unheard-of concept by any means--after all, my parents had me when they were 32--but still something that has far-reaching implications.

I guess the thing I'm struck by most is that they don't look scared in the way that the adults in the coffee shop look. I mean, theoretically, there's nothing preventing a healthy adult from being as vivacious as these teens are, right? So what happens in the meantime that makes the difference?

I would argue that the answer lies in something related to religion--but not religion as in Jesus, but as in how genuine religion has morphed into something that is a tragic parody of itself. It's a mode of thinking. It's a mode of thinking that things are beyond our input. We all need to live our day-to-day lives without overanalyzing, but sometimes we err by going too far in the opposite direction. For example, we need to get around, but let's face it, driving a car is unnecessarily anxiety- and stress-provoking. As a society, we could improve that situation--and occasionally do. But for a variety of reasons, that ultimately does not happen. In truth, while going about our everyday business, we could take some time to think about how things could be made better for all concerned and resolve to take action accordingly.

I think the answer lies in the "powers that be," which are a perception as much as a reality. I believe strongly in God, but I also believe that our individual futures are either entirely unknown or so hidden from us that we have no way of obtaining even the slightest indication of what they are. Our lives are some combination of our inner attributes and random events over which we have no control, with an unquantifiable and ever-changing proportion of each--whether we are Aaron Rogers or the homeless guy we see on the street. As we age, we start tossing around words like "destiny" and wonder what is "meant to be" and, yes, "God's will." I argue that the first two do not exist, and that the third is hidden from us by a wall of unknowing through which we have no ability to see or understand. God, in my view, has revealed certain limited information to us on a need-to-know basis. More to the point, though, the God I worship has created us as free persons with profound abilities to choose and, indeed, co-create. Therein lies God's Will with a capital "W".

In so many ways, what religion has become is a means of dissociating us from that state of choice. It creates a mode of thinking that is unquestioning and compliant. Over time, that seeps into the groundwater of our consciousness and contaminates it. We internalize the notion that the roads have been paved, the vehicles have been built and the energy has been tapped. What we fail to realize is that in so many ways, we--corporately and individually--are the roadbuilders; we are the vehicles, and we are the energy, streaming forth from God.

 

Holidays: A Very Cthulhu Christmas?

This summer, I was amused to see a bumper sticker reading "Cthulhu Loathes You". It occasionally seems to me that even the most sincere Christian expression--particularly my own--sometimes ends up resembling something closer to worship of Cthulhu, the Flying Spaghetti Monster or some similar imaginary being. This year, I've spent a great deal of time dealing with my inner "Cthulhu worship." I'm only now realizing how deeply rooted it was. I'd argue that the Christianity invoked during Saturday night's Republican presidential debate features a strong taint of Cthulhu worship.

East Side/Riverwest: Snapshots: Starbucks (E. Ogden Ave.)

It occurred to me this weekend that I feel genuinely sorry for those who are directly engaged in attracting the U.S.--particularly Milwaukee-area--consumer spending dollar. (Incidentally, I include politics and religion in consumer "spending," even if it is largely mindshare that is being spent.) There seems to be a lack of even side salad-sized solutions to our big, beefy basic problems. There also seems to be a lack of wisdom informed by empirical observation. For example, I'm now being reminded that the "killer app" of the coffeehouse is what I would call the "woman conversation." There's a certain volume and tone of voice used in these dyads that I feel like I've witnessed a million times. A chain like Starbucks could probably survive on the woman conversation alone. Obviously, the implication is that for your coffeehouse to succeed, you want the music to be right and not too loud. (I note that the coffeehouse I frequent that seems to be struggling the most plays loud, jarring music.)  

This only goes to show how dependent businesses like coffeehouses are on certain groups and certain modes of behavior. They have to catch lightning in a bottle, it seems, over and over again. It's evident to me that you've got your little base of eligible spenders, who are constantly preoccupied because the Packers are playing or it's the World Series or whatevertheheck. Add to that the challenge of putting forth a message that will "cut through" and attract the 15-second attention span of a population that, by and large, spends most of its time driving and watching television. It's hard not to be scared of what lows the political scene will stoop to before the Presidential election cycle is through. Indeed, as I saw Saturday night, it's hard not to be scared of the lows that have already been reached.  

Editorials: Religion: Sins of the Nose

My favorite magic trick of all is that performed by the maid service that cleans my apartment every six weeks. In the late morning, I leave a slightly stanky apartment; in the evening, I return to the lilting scent of (in tonight's case) cinnamon. I think they're unleashing the heavy ammunition now that I'm back on the White Owls. This summer, I was at Holy Hill and stopped in the bookstore. In a book about confession, "sins of the nose" were mentioned. (Apparently the belief in such a concept exists--you can even Google it, though it doesn't get many hits.)  One of the more memorable moments of the year followed one day not too long after, when I reflected back on reading that and thought to myself, "That is just nuts." It's hard to describe the feeling of calm I had immediately afterwards. It set the stage for several such moments this year.

Further along that chain of events, I find myself going into the Christmas season with, for perhaps the first time in my life, a workable perception of myself and others. It's not a naive perception; it's a perception that isn't going to be pushed around by every little thing, particularly those that originate from within myself. For example, I now sit unapologetically at a Starbucks. There are valid arguments for and against chains of various sizes, but I'm not worried about that now. What I am concerned about is the fact that I'm not going to be hectored into going to a local coffee outlet on the basis of a "buy local" argument alone. To be honest, I go to coffeehouses mostly for the Wi-Fi these days. My Tassimo machine makes not only good drip coffee and espresso, but even a perfectly serviceable cappuccino (!). The differential between Starbucks and growing local chains is shrinking--all coffeehouses are hit-or-miss in terms of quality now.

Religion: Surely, They're Surly

I have to poke some (hopefully gentle) fun at my WELS home church. In the Prayer of the Church, as one of the signs of the end times, mention was made of "medical personnel who deal with surly patients." Huh? I never cease to be amazed at the random, seemingly out-of-nowhere talking points that conservative Lutheranism seems to delight in. No climate change, no global famine, no injustice--just the specter of an apparently niggling hall monitor deity. Though a theological discussion is beyond the scope of even this way out-of-scope blog, the listing of portents seems to reflect a lack of logic in historical and theological understanding. Were the medical patients of Jesus' day shiny, happy people? I'm guessing not--and I'm betting they bore some pretty nasty "lifestyle illnesses." How are we to interpret these as particular signs of the end times? I find the WELS psychology so baffling, yet fascinating.

Off Topic: Editorials: Halloween or April Fools'?

I just had one of those moments where I wondered if it was Halloween or April Fools' Day. At the end of the Marquette Mass at Gesu Church, an earnest and studious young man got up to explain the need for the new translations in the soon-to-be launched Roman Missal. He cited the need for more literal translations that are closer to the vocabulary and syntax of the Latin--a long-dead language. That's an *awesome* idea! I've been going to the Marquette Mass because they have cute girls in the choir (I think some are graduate students). Guess I better make my move fast before the Church decrees that the sun revolves around the Earth after all.