The Third Place

In college I read this book for a community building course. The Third Place is not your home, or your work but a place where you spend the third most of your time (behind work as the first and home as the second). Maybe it is a bar or a restaurant or a park or a coffee shop. These places are celebrated community gems "where everybody knows your name" and where you feel all warm and fuzzy and downright comfortable going.

For me and Jim, that place is the Jitterbug, a coffee shop just around the corner from our house run by a laid back Bruce who can play a mean guitar and has a heart of gold. When Jim and I first bought our home in  Sugarhouse we asked around about a cool coffee shop and unanimously we were told about the Bug. We were told that a few months earlier, Bruce had suffered a stroke and the entire neighborhood and beyond banded together and ran his shop, regular business hours until he was able to come back full time. For free. We knew we had struck Third Place gold.

While the main attraction for me is Bruce and his iced coffee that gets me so high it should be illegal, it would not be a solid Third Place if it weren't for it's other regular patrons. From my next door neighbor to across the valley, the Jitterbug has some loyal followers. On weekday mornings I know I will run into Art and he and Jim will talk about golf, or Francis who up until recently, would be most often found dozing off on one of Bruce's comfy chairs after his night shift as a baker. On the weekends my neighbor Mark brings his adorable girls and we just make the biggest deal out of "running into" them even though it is more likely we see them there than we don't.

Recently the Jitterbug Tribe has run into some sad luck. Art was diagnosed with lung cancer and is most likely at home for now. Jitterbug regulars have been at his house taking care of him and his wife since the day he got back from the hospital. Rebecca takes him to his appointments and Francis sits with his wife while they are gone. I haven't yet visited Art but I know I have a tough act to follow.

Last Sunday one of the veteran Jitterbug regulars passed away unexpectedly. Warren, "the dog man" was a quirky guy who wrote poetry and drew interesting (creepy?) characters. He sometimes would speak in an accent and would ALWAYS make you laugh. He never went anywhere without "the boys", his dogs Skinny and Twerp. Tonight was his wake at his other Third Place, his nighttime Third Place, a bar called The Spot. I walked in and saw everyone I had ever seen at the Jitterbug. From everyday folks like Francis and Mark to those I had only seen once before. Mo and Jesse were there who I never get to see because they are afternooners while I am a first-thing-in-the-morning customer. Hell, even the famous Colorado Melissa who moved away before Jim and I started going to the Jitterbug flew in from Washington to be there for Warren and Bruce and the Tribe.

To see a group of people who started out having nothing in common other than their favorite coffee shop band together during a time of need is a very special, moving thing.

This is what makes a place a Third Place.