Sunday, September 23, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
This is not a hockey post, not really, but it relates to hockey in a way. You'll see how eventually...
My favorite bookstore ever, the Island Bookstore on Mackinaw Island as well as in Mackinaw City, has a bookmark they sell telling you to “Love your local.” I take that advice to heart whenever I find a quaint little bookshop and always buy something regardless of price, knowing that's very well the only thing keeping it afloat. Sure, I'll shop at Barnes and Noble (and would still shop at Borders if they hadn't shut down) and, even more telling perhaps, I work for Target, but there's something special about a little, local shop.
Taking it a step further, the Germans have a phrase, lokal, meaning a pub or eatery, but it really means your “local.” It's one of those words that carries more than a basic definition. If you're at all familiar with the Dearborn area, I'll put it this way for you- Bailey's is a bar, Miller's and Biergarten are lokals. The same thing goes for restaurants. Yeah, you can hang out at the Horn for hours drinking coffee, the one guy in your group will get hit on by the waitress three times his age and call everyone hun, but that's a local chain restaurant, not a lokal. That hole in the wall, greasy spoon, looks like you might catch something if you went in there but wow was the food good even though the waiter made fun of your vintage Ted Lindsay jersey? That's a lokal. If you don't have one, I feel sorry for you. It's that special place that doesn't care if you're telling wildly inappropriate stories as you drink your 7th cup of coffee, the waitstaff knows where they work and what they're getting into and they just go along with it. Sometimes they even share a story or two with you. It's there to celebrate after your team wins and to drown your sorrows in hot cheese after a loss. For me, and several of my friends, that place was Laikon. Not really local for us, but it was our lokal. We found out recently to our great dismay that Laikon is closed and I didn't even get to say goodbye in proper form. Sure, there are plenty of other restaurants in Greektown and if I'm really desperate I can go to a coney island, but it's not the same. Yes, I'm celebrating the win last night, but I'm mourning the loss of my Greektown home away from home. Though it pains my inner barista to do so, I'm encouraging anyone who knew and loved Laikon to raise a slightly stale cup of coffee in its honor. You'll be missed.