Your Third Place

Caribou Coffee didn’t waste any time getting out of Chicagoland. I drove by my local coffeehouse last week, and the windows were already covered with brown butcher paper. I’m a little sad about this development. Sure, we still have Starbucks, but Caribou is a little less trendy and less expensive, which suits some of us quite well. One of my favorite columnists, Mary Schmich from the Chicago Tribune, wrote an article about Caribou Coffee’s retreat, and something she said about coffeehouses struck me. She describes coffeehouses as “a third place.” Your home is your first place and your work is your second place. (As a mostly stay-at-home mom, my first and second place seem to be the same–home.)

Schmich writes, “A third place is generally an unpretentious spot filled with regulars but open to anyone, where people of all kinds and social ranks mix, for little or no money.” People in my generation will imagine the coffeehouse of Friends, which was shown so often on that TV show that I think it was Rachel, Monica and Phoebe’s first place. However, I don’t think a coffeehouse qualifies as my third place. For one thing, I prefer to brew my own coffee at home. For another thing, when I go to Starbucks, Emmy wants me to buy her a cake pop for $1.25, which seems ridiculous even though I can’t make cake pops on my own. Trust me on this one.

Caribou Coffee
In October, Caribou offers a special blend for breast cancer awareness.

Where is my third place, then? Unpretentious and open to anyone? In the past, it certainly would have been the bar where my husband and I would grab a pizza and a beer every weekend.

Before I met my husband, my third place was the public library. I loved the hushed reading area in the stacks at my library. The building was old and creaky, and there were French doors leading out to a small courtyard. It was a great place to spend a Saturday afternoon. The library became my third place again after our first child was born. I was a new stay-at-home mom, and didn’t quite know what to do with myself. The second story of the large, suburban library was perfect to find a quiet nook to nurse my newborn and read. As Lily grew, so did our time at the library. We went weekly to check out books and attend story time. Now that Lily and Emmy are both in school, we don’t go to the library as often as we did back then. One day, school was canceled when the power went out. Our first stop was the library. We saw many of Lily and Emmy’s friends there that morning!

The third place where I spend the most time, however, is my church. You can find me there every weekend. I’ve been attending the same church since 1981.  I attended junior high at the parochial school.  My first overnight trip without my parents was with my seventh grade class. When I was sixteen, I went on my first date with a boy in Youth Group (not my husband, but we are still friends). I met my husband, got married and baptized my children at St. Andrews. Now I teach Sunday school and direct VBS at my church.

Yes, I think my church is my third place.

Where is your third place?

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Falling Asleep

For eleven years, I lived in apartments. Noisy, tenant-filled apartment buildings. Television, music, and parties kept me up. I used all sorts of tricks to help me sleep at night. I bought a white noise maker with several sounds from nature, such as waterfalls and waves washing up on shore. I soon detected how these recorded sounds repeated over and over again, so instead of soothing me to sleep the recordings drove me crazy as I listened to the same pattern of rain drops on the window sill. I tried turning on a fan, but that constant whir kept me awake instead of lulling me to sleep. I finally settled on some new age music. My CD player had a timer and so I could go to sleep listening to music.

Then I got married and moved into my new husband’s condo. Now we had noise from the strip mall alley below us and light from the parking lot and busy street in front of the mall. Ed didn’t have curtains or blinds in his third story bedroom, so I got used to the noise and the light.

I still remember the first night we slept in our new suburban house. It was dark and very quiet at night. It was perfect.

Even now, almost 10 years later, when I crawl into bed I am grateful for the dark and quiet that lulls me to sleep every night…the sleep I get after I creep down the stairs to write down my thoughts on my blog.

Good night!

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