Dear Sue

Dear Sue,

You likely won’t remember me.  Although we’ve met some 27 times and established that your best friend from grade school is married to my daughter’s husband’s uncle in Rhode Island, I’m obviously forgettable.

When I read you and Al are selling Cornerstone Coffee House after 26 years, I was met with both joy for you two joining the ranks of the unencumbered, as well as a torrent of memories gushing from the memory bank.

First, congratulations to you and Al!  ‘Not working’, after about a two-year adjustment period, has brought me to a place of contentment and purposefulness I never new existed.  As the magnetic pull of the busyness of business slowly fades, I hope you, too, find a soothing rhythm and vibe these Golden Years have to offer.

It is without hyperbole I say you have created a space that has come to serve as a foundational thread in the fabric of the Camp Hill community.  It is perhaps the safest of all safe spaces.  Camp Hill is a better community because of Cornerstone Coffee House. 

While my drink-of-choice has changed over the years (today, hands down my go-to favorite is an Espresso Milkshake), I have always enjoyed the lack of drama and anxiety around ordering a cup of coffee; Can I say how joyful the experience of simply ordering a large coffee is,  without the anxiety? This is in large part because you have employed the best people (many who do remember my name) who have maintained the vibe and ambience your love and leadership provides.  From cooking classes in the back room, to live music from solo guitarists and school choral groups up front, there has always been something special to attract local interest. Your support and celebration of local artists by showcasing their work on your walls has been incredibly heartwarming.

I’ve conducted job interviews, and have been interviewed for jobs, at Cornerstone. I’ve met with old friends and met new ones, sometimes in passing, other times by design.    Once I met with a friend in cargo shorts sporting an electronic tracking device on their ankle; the next day a U.S Navy Admiral.  I’ve met with attorneys, accountants, and funeral directors. I’ve talked to friends about getting sober, heartbreak, new love, politics,  and spirituality.  I’ve met with church pastors, real estate tycoons, politicians, students, and a very wide range of assorted wandering souls.   Literally, every aspect of my life over the past 26 years has been shared in some way within the walls of Cornerstone.

I was once seduced by a cinnamon bun slathered with copious amounts sugarey butter icing. *   I was on my way to the oncologist’s office for my annual check-up:  While I resisted the temptation in that moment, I succumb more regularly than I will admit.  My mouth waters as I reminisce. 

Some of the best advice I ever received was at Cornerstone.   After I had lost a job, I ran into a dear friend, the late Joe Skelly, and we hatched a plan to go spend a week in the Keys.  Best job-hunting tip I ever got was, “Let’s go to the beach.”

Even when my work requirements took me out of the swing of Camp Hill, upon return it always felt like I was coming home.  Cornerstone’s most addictive product is a steady brew of magic and compassion.

I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, I’ve grimaced, and I’ve giggled.  The richness of this thread in my life experience over the past 26 years cannot be overstated.  It is ingrained in my being, and I am supremely grateful for you.  Thank you!

Even if you don’t remember me, Sue, I will always remember you and Al as the creators of the safest of all safe spaces.  Much love and congratulations on job well done.  I wish you both the best of luck, and magic.  Maybe we’ll cross paths in Rhode Island, where I will humbly re-introduce myself. 

*Link to the purient details of a cinnamon bun seduction