Was trying to pitch this to my editor for a semi-regular submission…any input?
Upon finally ending the day inside the local brewery, I chose to try and be invisible to the bustling masses having their beers and sharing meals. Most people there know me from one venture or another, so maybe the levels of their voices afford me an eavesdropper’s bliss, but I also think that maybe they just don’t care what anyone hears around them, so I listen.
It felt like a slice of Boulder Creek life was transpiring before me on a busy weekend evening, maybe not representing any nationwide group, but it definitely felt like a genuine moment of sharing; Sharing a passing hour that will be lost in time and probably forgotten by most that were there. Maybe that is what I have been wishing for in all this effort of taking photos and writing notes; recording what is so easily forgotten.
A listing of the souls around me, a representation of sorts:
The weathered locals discussing their love, pain and loneliness with each other, especially one lady who speaks of not having shared time with a man in some long measure of recent moments,
The travelers passing through looking aimlessly about at the surroundings of our local pub,
The attractive young non-SLV-native couples meeting from across the bar, talking of their plans upon this new town they have moved into,
The lifelong valley soul pushing his way through the crowd looking hardened and forlorn, he doesn’t have to ask for his beer, it just appears,
The career bartender offering this beer with a smile, no one knowing all of her personal tribulations since most never seem to listen anyway,
ZZ Top blasts away on the speakers as the Cotton Bowl silently plays upon the displays only a few people glance at with those aimless stares we all know,
The career server that answers the what’s good question with “everything”, delivering the line as to not make the customers sure if he is serious or not,
The irritating cell phone caller letting everyone know his butt hurts from doing something worth nothing, but at least the children in the booth next to him are getting an early awareness training on how not to be “that jerk” in a restaurant,
The young brewer checking gauges and scribbling notes that most of us just wonder what he is actually doing – but while still molding his beer upon the local patrons in this one-brewery town,
Several bearded pre-drunkards stumble in and make sure they advise the rookie server how they have drank longer than his young life has blessed this planet, and lastly –
The obvious first date couple ending their evening as the man nervously fumbles for some cash, apparently not sure how much to tip as her eyes watch for just that allowance, possibly sizing up if he is a generous man or not…
And finally as I sip my last bit of local brew for the night, Blondie screams through the speakers to “call me anytime” and I then hope for everything I watched and recorded that evening might have a positive fruition – none of which I will probably ever know. Maybe that first date will call him for another dinner, or that the hardened local will be happy again, or that those young couples continue to find their obvious early bliss, or that one lady finds a moment with a man soon, or that caller grows an inkling of public politeness, and or maybe most of all – this writer finds sharing these moments to be worthy of your time, and a slice of life in Boulder Creek gets remembered for one brief moment.