Wednesday, October 28, 2009
I realize it's been awhile since I've spoken on the importance of a good cup of coffee. Being down in the South has renewed my commitment to always having a decent cup of Joe on hand, however. It just isn't that important of a Thing, down here. I have purchased, for my tour survival, an air-tight container in which to store my grounds. Having noticed how coffee suffers under the constant humidity and temperature changes as we travel on our merry way, I think it was only common sense to buy a special container.
This week's blend: Starbucks Kitamu African blend...delicious, spicy & floral. I also make it too strong so it's POW with two whole mini packets of half & half.
But enough about coffee (okay, never enough, but enough for now)... we were speaking about the south. It has been a special treat to perform this play in Alabama. The last few years we've been through the state, I never felt anything particularly special except to notice a certain kind of obnoxious aggression in their driving. Bringing this story down here, however, has enlightened me to the true spirit of Alabama.
Even in the rain, I somehow noticed the beautiful scenery - sprawling highways flanked by autumn trees, rise of gray rocks and misty hills. Even the kudzu vine, lush with fall rain, has a certain, ominous beauty to it.
The people have received us well. It's less like Texas, where they cherish the story, and more like coming home. They appreciate us telling this tale. For a little while, we're among our neighbors. They've fed us well, treated us well, embraced us (literally) as their friends and co-conspirators in the arts and in storytelling.
It was different in Mississippi, where they (like the Texans), had a touching, heart-strings kind of connection to our American, southern tale... but Alabama has been like home.
Heck, I'll say it... it's been sweet home... Alabama.
Writing from Opelika...where - from hotel to venue to restaurant - they know you by name, and treat you like family.