Coffee Lady 'Brenda'

I went to some gallery openings last night and though some of the art was quit interesting my night was clouded over when I saw a postcard of the coffee lady, a gastown landmark. Upon asking her whereabouts I learnt she had died of pneumonia more than a month ago. I was stunned. “Someone should have let the community know,” I said, “there are so many people who cared about her”. “We did,” the woman responded, “Portland Society arrange a very nice memorial for her”. But these people, these characters who touch our hearts and souls, mean much more to the entire community than I think even the NGO’s down here realize. The shopkeepers and tourists, residents and visitors, there must be literally thousands of people over the years who have bought Brenda a coffee, often if only to silence her whiny “may I have a coffee, will you buy me a coffee” mantra. After the decade passes you come to expect these characters, even rely upon them to provide your sense of stability, not unlike the policeman, milkman and school teacher in Mister Rogers neighbourhood. An evening at Chill Winston is just not complete until she sings her whiny tune, “excuse me, will you buy me a coffee, can I have a coffee”. She was our coffee lady and I, for one, will miss her. I had been wondering where she was, even worrying for her. She had recently made my little store a rest spot, I remember the first time she’d sat down on my chairs, I’d rose from my post and come around the counter, intending to ask her to reserve the seats for the paying customers. Thankfully, a sweet little whine had stopped me in my tracks, swirling inside the tiny space and forcing me to smile as I pulled up a stool and watched the beauty unfold from my painted windows. “Will you buy me an ice cream, excuse me sir, will you buy me an ice cream”. He’d bought her a big bowl of chewy chocolate. Sleep well Brenda.