The Coffee Klatch Changes

                         The Coffee Klatch Changes

It occurred to me recently that I haven’t told you about recent events at my regular coffee klatch with my friends from the neighborhood. The reason for my delinquency is the dreaded corona virus. For several weeks I avoided the neighborhood gathering, attempting to follow our Governor’s directive (that woman from Michigan), who issued ‘stay at home’ orders. Now that she has lifted the orders, I renewed my daily coffee mooching over the last two weeks, riding my bicycle to the morning event instead of engaging in my former walk to the cottage in the woods.

Returning to the coffee klatch after a months-long absence was almost as if I hadn’t been gone. A couple of the men nodded as I walked in, but beyond that it seemed that no one had noticed my absence. Apparently, my conversational brilliance at the table wasn’t indispensable, after all. Despite the deflation of my ego, I joined the ongoing conversation about the myriad failures of our President and it soon seemed to me that I hadn’t been absent at all.

The only other new conversational thread of the group beyond our normal complaints about the weather and the ferocity of our mosquitoes, was our observations about corona virus. Since we are all in the category of ‘most likely to die from the virus’ our approach was generally conservative; we all seemed to agree that the most stringent actions need to be taken to combat the pandemic. We also agreed that wearing of masks and maintaining social distance was mandatory. We only mitigated that firmly held belief when it was necessary to slurp down the free coffee and eat the odd doughnut that one or another of us would bring for the group. For my part, I tried to sit as far away from the dining table as possible without offending Josie, the only dog who attends our klatch and begs for treats from us.

This morning’s klatch was different. For one thing, we had a new participant; one who was strikingly different from us North Woods men normally around the table. The new member of the klatch was a woman, she who made the coffee. The host of our klatch in whose kitchen we have sat for the last dozen years was Jerry Boone, a direct descendant of the famous Boones from Kentucky. Jerry had lived alone for much of that period as he lost his wife to cancer shortly after the klatch began. The woman who attended our klatch for the last several days was his daughter who had come to help Jerry after his recent health reversal.

This morning I said goodbye to Jerry for the last time. His daughter told me that she will be taking Jerry to her home as soon as she completes the necessary arrangements for his move. Jerry is now in hospice care following a brief stay at a local hospital while I was absent. Earlier, a heart doctor had told Jerry that he needed a new heart valve, that his own valve was badly leaking. Jerry decided not to submit to the surgery and, as his condition deteriorated, hospice care was the only remaining option. In recent days, he has suffered from confusion and reduced mobility while the hospice nurse arranged for him to be tethered to an oxygen tank. It became clear to his daughter that around-the-clock care was necessary and she stepped forward to the relief of those of us who watched Jerry’s quick decline.

Jerry’s confusion today seemed a little less pronounced than in recent days. He seemed at peace with his and his daughter’s decision about moving as a part of his ongoing journey. As I stood to leave his kitchen forever, he seemed to understand as I bid him goodbye. He urged me to find a younger man to host a new coffee klatch.

Although I didn’t tell Jerry, I don’t expect to find another coffee klatch like his. The parting may have been sadder for me than for him. Sometimes, life is harder than other times.