Thoughts from Dr. Joe: Recalling a former Black Cow patron

I don’t view myself as a creature of habit but I have become susceptible to routine. Table 10 in the café was occupied; subsequently, I decided to sit at table 11. Since Nate Neven, the morning barista, created the perfect café latte, the Black Cow Café in Montrose was a comforting respite on a cold Monday morning.

Each day I struggle with my novel, trying to achieve indiscernible perfection. I’m on my sixth rewrite and desperately searching for light at the end of the tunnel. Typically, I stare at my computer until my ears bleed.

However, my ears didn’t bleed this day; instead I had an “aha” moment. I saw a flicker of light deep within the recesses of an endless tunnel. I began to write, going deep into the nature of one of the protagonists, Ofa Hawkins, and weaving my characters into the incomprehensible circumstances of the Vietnam era. I had fallen into a “writer’s high.”

I assumed the fluidity I experienced was a serendipitous circumstance. I returned the next morning because Angela Pailevanian, the Tuesday morning barista, makes the best cappuccinos outside of Rome. I spoke to Jason Totty, who was sitting at table 11. He’s been a patron of the Black Cow since 1995. He explained that a restful yet defined spirit resides at table 11 and permeates throughout the café.

My mother’s family was full of transcendental mystics who walked the razor’s edge between religion and the occult. Thus, I realized the spirit dwelling at table 11 must be responsible for the clarity of my writing.

Jason told me that the spirit of the cafe is the ghost of Peggy Knowles, who sat at table 11 from the Black Cow’s opening. Jason then pointed to a plaque affixed to where Peggy sat. It read, “This is the place where Peggy sat, to have a drink to have a chat. With friends or staff that was her way. We’ll think of you Peggy, every day.”

The next morning I arrived at 6:30 a.m. intent on finding the zen of the Black Cow. The café was awake and anticipating its morning regulars. Juan Chaves was preparing the tables. I observed his meticulous attention to detail as he fastidiously inspected his work. However, Juan found the time to give me a heartfelt greeting. The cooks were in the kitchen prepping breakfast and singing Spanish songs. However, what I found to be the definitive signature of the café was the smile of the morning server, Melanie Aliman. She warmed her customers on a cold Wednesday morning from the inside out. Melanie’s welcoming persona convinced me, that it’s people who bring that unique quality and a sense of place.

I needed to find the sacred narrative, which would help me understand and intellectualize this circumstance. A piece of the puzzle was missing; consequently, I spoke to the manager, Ashlyn Mangawdi. “Each day Peggy would call the café at 6 a.m. to reserve table 11. She’d ride the bus and arrive at 6:30, impeccably dressed… she engaged the regulars with candor, and often a caustic sense of judiciousness,” Ashlyn explained. “Peggy loved it here. The café gave her purpose. It would crush her spirit if she didn’t make it.”

I returned on Sunday. Trace Craig, the barista, brewed a scrumptious masala chai tea. The aromatic vapors of the cardamom, cinnamon, and cloves were intoxicating and conducive to understanding the narrative of Peggy Knowles’ ghost.

I realized the previous day, Ashlyn had found the missing piece of the puzzle. There are many lonely people who struggle for a human touch. Peggy was a lonely woman and found a respite in communion with the staff and regulars. Although she’s been gone for five years, her spirit lingers. She must not be ready to leave the love she found at the Black Cow Café.

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JOE PUGLIA is a practicing counselor, a retired professor of education and a former officer in the Marines. Reach him at doctorjoe@ymail.com. Visit his website at doctorjoe.us.