The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

Three little girls are sitting on my sofa. They are lounging deep on the soft cushions, each in a pose for maximum comfort. The sisters anchor the cousin, a grown up girl of NINE!!!! The six year old watches every movement as if taking mental notes, trying to emulate her actions. The four year old is just happy so have someone else to play with, unaware of the half answers from the older girls who sometimes get deep in their own world. This is one of the rare opportunities that make me appreciate my status as an "at-home" mom. My cousin called me this morning and asked if I wouldn't mind watching her daughter, a snow day leaving her stranded for care for the 4th grader. "Sure," was my gravelly-voice reply, my countenance not fully awake after just one latte. My house, now dubbed "Funny Farm II" will be filled to capacity with my girls, my little cousin, and my son. Thank you God that my husband made a snack run last night! I assumed my position ...

Moments. Today was a moment. I came to the coffee shop to escape the remnants of an over-exuberant howl-out night. I couldn't face cleaning up the popcorn bowls and juice cups after the kids camped out in the family room so I gathered up my computer, my books, my favorite mug,and headed out to a little solitude. I settled into an early morning of reading, thinking, and just looking out the window. Then came a moment. I ran into a group of people, fate allowing our paths to cross in wake of the Kirkwood Tragedy. It was an ordained segment of time. We sat and shared and talked and possibility rang out. I felt as if the circumstances of my life were meant to affect the circumstances of their mission. Hope. It is the cry of the people, it is the cry of my chosen candidate, hope. Then came a moment. I shared with them my feelings and they shared with me their work in the area. There were light bulbs going off in this circle of four. We knew we hit on connections, a missing peg....

Search for peace, and work to maintain it. Psalms 34:14b In the aftermath of the mass killings in Kirkwood MO, on the last day of the memorials and the funerals, in the wake of the pain, I pray for peace. Tonight marks one week when this normally benign community was shaken to the core of its beliefs. Tonight marks one week when the news cameras and helicopters descended on the nine square miles of quiet suburba and exposed it to the nation. Tonight marks one week when one man, simply one man, make a fatal choice that would rock our lives forever. One week, seven days, and a town turned upside down. Now, let the healing begin. How? Recognize our joint humanity. We really all the same. Let's put aside race, class, location, gender, ethnicity, what side of the tracks, put it aside. Search for peace, and WORK to maintain it.

This evening there was a prayer meeting in Meacham Park, a candlelight vigil, a moment for a community to mourn. The small church just off Milwaukee Avenue, Douglass Church of God in Christ was packed. It was standing room only, men rising to give their seats to ladies that were standing. All seeking to collectively mourn, to pray, to raise a voice to God. "If the people can't call on the church in time of need, who can they call on?" One of the pastors asked this rhetorical question in response to why ministers of different denominations, even a Muslim minister, came together to say to a comunity, "we acknowledge your pain, your frustration, your sorrow. We are here to pray with you, to lift our voices to God." Over and over were scriptures and messages that something good would come out of this. There were reminders that the history of Meacham Park was that it was settled by the children of former slaves, by those who worked for nothing to enrich people of a ...

Today I walked on history I had to run to Target this afternoon in preparation for an evening at the St. Louis Symphony. I am a fairly new resident to Kirkwood, MO so it is quite convenient for me to just run over to Kirkwood Commons and have my choice between Wal*Mart, Target, and TJMaxx when I need something for the girls. My husband has frequent public appearances or performances that entail bringing six and four-year-old girls. Today was no exception with the added surprise of the weather. My quick trip was different today. The parking lot was crowded. Many people rushed in and out, there were lines. I saw black faces and white faces. Then something struck me, I was standing on history, on legacy, on dashed hopes and dreams, on tragedy. I learned more about the history of Meacham Park and Kirkwood's racial divide since the tragic events of Thursday, February 8th. Being inquisitive and curious, I decided to investigate further. The Kirkwood City website has a glowing rep...

Today there is a collective grief that has covered this small Missouri town like a gray cloud. Yesterday, I sat like the rest of my community in utter shock when the normal Thursday night television was interrupted with a special report. There was a disturbance at City Hall and a mass shooting in an otherwise boring meeting. It turned out we quasi knew the shooter, he an older alum of my husband's alma mater. He was a fellow church member with my cousin. I remember his gracious greeting to me when we first moved to Kirkwood and encountered him at church. He was affiable, approachable, and always smiling. I sat in utter disbelief as the events of the evening were rattled off and then the unbelievable utterance of a name we knew. We wondered if it was the same Cookie Thornton and it was then confirmed when a fellow Kirkwoodian called us and told me it was the same man I met at church. My husband and I were just dumbfounded. Then the media displayed his picture and it was conf...

In the midst of this presidential election, sinking economy, housing crisis, debilitating unemployment, rising food costs, soaring gas prices, and increasing woe, there is still hope. I sat down the other day and watched my four-year-old daughter engage in play. We had just returned from our afternoon ritual of taking her six-year-old sister to kindergarten. The time of day was perfect for quiet activity. I was on the sofa reading a book, she was on the playroom rug holding a doll. She looked so beautiful with her still-chubby cheeks and preschool innocence. Her entry into the fours barely two months ago, she still finding her way in the realm of the almost-schooled. I eavesdropped on her conversations with the dolls. They talked of the recent snow day and how much fun it was to play in the snow. She alternated her voice between dolls as she dressed them and bounced them on the rug. Her world was so loving and complete there on the floor. My daughter has a distinctive husky, d...