Publication Date: Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Guest Opinion: Table talk from the front lines of Palo Alto
Guest Opinion: Table talk from the front lines of Palo Alto
(July 27, 2005) by Karen Robinson
There is no better place to learn about a community -- and its people -- than from its front lines: the tables in a restaurant.
I write from the perspective of a long-time waitress, a job in which one becomes a witness to the incredible diversity of personalities, interests, beliefs (both political and religious), even literary and artistic talents -- and the high and low points of people's lives.
I have always loved to write, and have thought about writing about this table-top perspective for several years. But being busy I have delayed. Suddenly it's now or never, it seems.
I have worked at the Cookbook restaurant for 15 years -- minus a short hiatus. Next Sunday we will close forever. A 30-day notice from the new owner of Town & Country Village is forcing us out, and I and my fellow waitresses and kitchen staff will soon be seeking new tables elsewhere, scattered. (One plans to return to her native Thailand for a time, another to concentrate on college, another to shift to another restaurant in the area, as I will be doing).
What is Palo Alto to me? At least my little slice of it is so diverse and unique.
Working at the Cookbook has been a wonderful learning experience. I have met people from all walks of life. And we have shared not just words but parts of our lives. We have bantered, discussed local and national news and politics, shared joys and sorrows, promotions and transitions, births and deaths, problems with children, marriages and divorces.
With some regulars, never have I felt or seen such powerful spirituality than I have since working here. No matter the religion, you can almost feel it in the air, and definitely in the heart.
In my little corner of Palo Alto, I see not just Palo Alto but all the surrounding cities and Stanford University.
The people I have met seem so conservatively liberal -- or is it liberally conservative? They so like to argue, about anything and everything. But I believe that is where the diversity comes in. That is where change and hope and dreams come from.
People here really care about others and their communities. Family values and relationships are the strongest I've ever seen.
One of my late customers, George, a talented artist in his 60s who became my best friend before he died last year, told me once why he moved to Palo Alto: He and his family had been living in Berkeley. One day when he went to pick his 6-year-old son up from school, there were two boys fighting on the playground. Several teachers and parents stood watching, doing nothing. George asked why they didn't intervene. "Boys will be boys," someone said, adding that they needed to learn how to work out their differences on their own.
In that moment, George decided to move to the most "conservative" city he could find in the Bay Area. He found Palo Alto. Regarding morals and ethics for raising children, Palo Alto has not changed in the 30 years since, George told me.
I have met so many wonderful and unique people, from lawyers to housekeepers, artists to belly-dancers, Stanford athletes and scholars, book writers, newspaper writers, a President's daughter (Chelsea, complete with some giggling girlfriends and four Secret Service agents), actors, actresses and many more.
Kiwanis and Rotary committees regularly met in one corner or other. Bible-study groups meet to talk and pray. Others have business meetings. Friends gather. Customers introduce relatives from far away.
On most Friday mornings, when a vintage hot-rod club meets, the back parking lot looks like something from the 1950s -- many owners as vintage as their custom vehicles. Once a year the Model A club meets here, and the parking lot looks like the 1920s.
Retirees get together for reunions. Parents bring their children because they know we love them and make them comfortable.
I have seen high-school sweethearts go away to college, come back, get married and have children. I have beloved customers grow old and pass away, and I have helped console the loved ones left behind. Some have shared challenges and sorrows, successes and hopes and disappointments of raising children.
These people are more than customers to me. They have become my family, my friends, my confidants. I believe I have become the same for most of them.
Then there is James Kim, the Cookbook owner for the past 19 years.
For the last nine years especially, he has been my surrogate father, my confessor, my advisor, my conscience, at times my savior and, I dare to hope, my friend. When I made big or small mistakes in my life he never hesitated to let me know (in no uncertain terms), and then helped me to get it right. Even his family members are special to me.
Well, in a short time the Cookbook will cease to exist. We are being forced to close without any reason given, initially. We are closing July 31.
How can 25 years of a restaurant's life (or my 15 years) be packed up and moved in one month? It is not like leaving a home to me. It is more like leaving my family forever.
These people are such an intricate, intimate, intrinsic part of my life, I already feel lost. It's more than the job. It's the heart.
I read somewhere once: "Strange what small pictures the mind will refuse to part with when other, greater memories have fled beyond recall."
I have retained so many memories, like photographs in my mind. The day of the Twin Towers, the customer who went into labor two separate times in the restaurant, the miracle baby born 11 weeks early, the day my best friend George died, others who had just been born, just passed away, recovered from cancer, succumbed to cancer.
I hear the laughter of shared jokes and stories. The list goes on and on. At least I have these memories to keep.
This is so different from what I had planned to write. I had never in my wildest imagination thought to write a eulogy for the Cookbook, and I imagine that anyone who frequented the restaurant never would have either.
To all the customers I get the chance to say goodbye to and all of those I can't, I have been honored by having you in my life and sharing our lives over the years. Thank you, and God bless you.
Karen Robinson has been a waitress at the Cookbook for 15 years, and earlier did customer service and displays for a Best Products outlet. She has two grown children -- and has just been hired at Mike's Cafe in Menlo Park.
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