08/08/2024
I have a story
I thought I’d take the opportunity
On the porch Where my pooch had passed peacefully
Today, the one year anniversary
I thought at least today you’d have trouble getting too mad at me.
It was probably a year ago right now
That, after an anxious 72 hours, I’d finally lay my head down,
And also for the first time in almost 12 years
In a bed that now wouldn’t be shared.
I was strangely grateful for the final 7 hours we’d spent —
Staring at each other on this very patio set —
And while we laid waiting for the mobile vet to lay her to rest,
I was reduced to some child like an appreciation.
All I could musters was,
“You have done such a great job with me.”
There is no better teacher — to teach dumb twenty-something year olds all of life’s hard lessons — than a needy but extremely intelligent dog.
I live 8,700 some odd days without the one who’d be closest to me,
4,345 days by her side,
And now, again, without her, 365.
Oh and by the way, hi, I am Jordan;
I owned a restaurant that’s been difficult to visit
But back to my dog for a moment
As honoring her is of momentous importance
This esteemed companion,
Also known as the sweetest puppy, my pretty girl, and dozens more pet names —
Was special enough that her given name’s namesake was beared by an eatery which was once a pillar in the community,
And also pivotal — in my mind at least — in immortalizing my loves legacy.
So I have a story,
And I also have a few sorries
And a story, or maybe a lack of story
And maybe a sorry mostly for my lack of story
But to a community
That so faithfully supported us
And specifically supported me
Through that period especially
I’m sorry i hadn’t addressed you
A la the elephant in the room
The reason why one’d — without notice —
Be greeted at our former door by an orange warning on a broken window.
The short of it is that —
With relatively little warning, and for seemingly several reasons —
We were no longer able to operate from our former space, and almost immediately
We were confident
that a solution would present itself quickly;
That we would have a complete story;
And that we would have sooner been able
To serve you again, in some capacity
A question of fairness,
In regards to events in early January,
Sparked a conversation, which soon’d be considered litigation,
Which is not quick, not in the least bit,
And that which the restaurant possessed,
For which our operations necessitated,
We have left, for some period at least, without accesses
For at least some period
And to a community with whom I’d not communicated with since last did:
The task to talk became mountingly overwhelming.
Until eventually just didn’t
Our silence, or morseo mine,
driven by an optimism for a reasonable and timely resolution,
Is an untold and still-incomplete story that’s almost no longer worth telling.
But you were owed more than that,
At least a heads up so you didn’t have to make the drives
And again, I’m sorry.
You were so good to us,
Even in our — and moreso my — most trying moments
Form when forced to field calls on our phone incessantly,
With a greeting, “hi, my beloved dead dog’s eatery.”
And not to suggest you excuse me —
Or certainly not to feel bad for me
I’m sure I missed the Christmas,
Where everyone kissed capitalists
So grateful that they took that risk,
What a community service.
But it was hard to tell a story, incomplete —
and especially, bearing the ensuing plethora of emotions one feels when witnessing a series of failures and tragedies.
Some include embarrassment, and an insecurity and helplessness,
which is commonly paired with similar sudden and uncontrollable life changes.
Fear and regret that, from a community of patrons,
For whom I’d become fond of their presence,
and who I am certain as well sometimes appreciated my existence,
I’d be subject to such a sudden severance.
I have been very sad because of this.
So I have, under the guise of cocooning, done nothing but litigate, and wait.
Oh and also I’ve allowed my tragedies to play muse,
And excuse the shameless plug,
But I’ve reflected,
But please support an upcoming biographic and informational gardening book of poetry,
And an album by local rock band The One, Two, Threes.”
Links in bio.
But more relevantly, admittedly said personal tragedies,
As well as equipment malfunctions, theft, the departures of key employees,
Resulted in a brief period of poor performance — and if you were in our waning weeks, witness or subject to subpar service — I am also so humbly sorry.
Please reach out,
I would intend to make amends if you would allow.
And that would anyways be an unworthy climax to our story.
But still since the task to talk to a community of patrons —
Whose unwavering support was the sole reason we were able to do what we did for as long as we did —
Was so difficult especially
Because the sudden closure was done neither willingly nor intentionally
That’s to say that we weren’t only waiting to tell a completed tale,
but had intended to share news that we would have sooner been again serving you.
It was a mission for which we were sincerely passionate.
So I’m sorry to say, still,
That the story is still too unsettled
To be worth telling
But also remain optimistic in predicting that this is not it.
That we wouldn’t have put in that work to be done when we were so far.
And I look forward to the next edition,
Where I can share specifics, for a situation where in some capacity we can continue to fulfill our mission.
The story isn’t over, and we’ve ample ink, and we think - at least for today — the story a play, and thanks for your patience. waiting with us while together we weather an extended intermission.
