My main Third Space(s)
a note about community things during a Hard F*cking Time
Abolish ICE. Gather in your community with our lessons learned from Minneapolis and LA and Portland and Chicago and DC and now cities in Maine, and make a plan. We are all next. This is an essay about community and spaces we come together, written for an event*. It felt timely given ALL THE F*CKING THINGS.
*My friend Lindsay recently started Third Space Sundays, which I’m attending for all the reasons listed on that site. “A weekly hour-long gathering for anyone craving routine, ritual, and real connection.” Last Sunday (Jan. 25) was the first event with time for community shares, so I told Lindsay I’d sign up if no one else filled the third spot! I wrote this essay on Sunday morning, 45 minutes before we left for the gathering, on my couch.
Of note: I’ve edited this slightly, and changed the exact name of the place I’m writing about, but if you know, you’ll know.
On a Friday night, I learned something new about a space I’ve been going to for twelve years. I thought I knew a lot about the space within the four walls I’d visited hundreds of times, in a dozen different seasons of life, but it continues to surprise me.
I enjoy a five minute walk to “Beans” from my house, or after dropping my kids off at school, anywhere from one to five or six times a week. I gladly spend a little bit more than I should on a small Iced Americano in a large glass, and spend a little less than I think they could charge for a delicious bagel, egg, cheese, and avocado sandwich. Sometimes I go there during happy hour when my husband is traveling. I book a babysitter and enjoy a solo drink and a snack. Often I suggest it as a place for a coffee, lunch, or dinner meeting. We take our kids so they can play with Legos, or run around outside, while we enjoy food and drinks someone made for us.
Which is to say: I utilize the full range of their operating hours, often greeted by a familiar face behind the bars.
I used to walk to Beans from my in-laws house a few times a YEAR. I can’t remember if I discovered it or my in-laws suggested it to me as a place I could go to get a little bit of work done while we were visiting from DC. I probably visited for the first time in 2014. At the time, it was called “Coffee & Beans”, as some of you probably remember.
Instead of Skilletzone1, there was a wall of candy to purchase by the pound. Instead of their lunch menu, you could pick up pre-packed Zingerman’s sandwiches. Instead of a full wine bar, it was primarily a wine shop. The back room was used for pop-up sales; I often saw it as a winter market. There was no outside space, save for a few picnic tables that looked like they hadn’t been used in years.
We have visited family in Ann Arbor from Washington DC, then Monterey California, then DC again, and then from Colorado. There are a few staples we went to for lunches and dinners—the usual suspects like Zingerman’s for lunch, Black Pearl for martinins, and Leo’s Coney Island for takeout. But my usual suspect was Beans. And with each visit, there was something new to learn about their space.
The candy wall was gone, replaced by more seating.
The wine shop got moved to the back, replaced in the front by more seating.
The bar and counter expanded around the side.
The menu grew.
The walls were painted.
The food truck moved in full time, and another one joined outside.
In September 2019, we were on our way from DC, VERY newly pregnant with our second kid, and a toddler-in-tow. Before the visit, my Father-in-law made sure to give me ample warning of a BIG CHANGE. He wanted me to have plenty of time—let’s say it was a few days—to process, before arriving in Treetown. The big announcement? Coffee and Beans was now...only...BEANS.
It took some time, but we all got used to it! It was small in comparison to the changes in our own lives, and in the world at large—two kids dating in DC who got married, adopted a dog, moved across the country twice, a Global Pandemic, election cycles, worlds at war, we had three children together...and then, we ended up in Ann Arbor.
When we started looking for houses, I wanted to be open to all corners of this city, because I really only knew about a 2 mile radius with Beans as the center. But, we’ll just say, long story short, we landed in a lovely old house, only a five minute walk away.
In this chapter of Beans and Me, I’m, obviously, a regular. Sometimes, instead of giving me a number for my food, they just put my name on the ticket and they know where to find me. I see neighbors and friends, I chat with the other regulars, the bartenders, and the baristas. I revel in the familiar air of the space—one that has seen me in many iterations of my career, parenthood, relationship, and friendships.
I love opening the door and feeling delighted to see someone I wasn’t expecting, getting a quick catch-up in before we open our laptops.
I love that it is a space where I feel known, and where I can regularly come back to as I get to know new people. I love that it’s now part of a rotation of walkable coffee and food stops in what’s now our neighborhood.
I love that I see Meg and Laura, the general managers from another coffee café I walk about five minutes to get to, who come to Beans on their days off.
I love how it feels like they continue to think of new ways to make it a space we want to spend time in, with events and music and toys for the kids.
On a Thursday I walked over to get my Iced Americano and work for a bit. I saw a QR code on the counter, and a note sharing that one of the baristas had a medical event in December. They set up a GoFundMe for him. The goal was $3,500, and as of Thursday morning it was past $13,000. I saw many familiar names of the regulars I know on the list of contributors, myself included.
On Friday night, Mike and I went there for a drink before meeting friends for dinner. We took the last two seats at the bar. We ran into another friend, who was there for a semi-regular gathering with one of the space’s partners. He mentioned the basement (of Beans), and I actually gasped! There’s…a basement?!
Like an old friend, or my own self, I LOVE that 12 years in, I’m still learning something new (to me) about Beans. It used to be the one space I knew in Ann Arbor that I could go to for some time on my own, now it’s a space I visit every week, to be delighted by both the familiarity and the community inside the doors.
Before you go! If you liked this piece of writing, here are my little asks:
Share something in/about your community that brings you joy / safety / love / connection, in the comments below. I would really LOVE to read about it.
Share this essay with a friend! I could post it 100 times on the Substack notes or on Instagram, but I don’t want to be in those places. I do want to connect with more writers and people who enjoy reading things people write, so if you know someone like that, forward with love!
Lolz also NOT the name of the actual restaurant inside this place, but it’s hard to come up with other names!
So special hearing you read this and getting to revisit it here!