The Coca-Cola Connection

Just drive in and get a Coke, if you're thirsty. 
  
                                                      - Waiting for Guffman 




My Nana always had a variety of carbonated beverages available to us. Her large off-white garage refrigerator was heavily stocked with Coke, Dr. Pepper and Diet Rite among others. Before every game of Liverpool Rummy you'd hear the distinct slam of the screen door followed by the sharp pop of an aluminum can. We'd drink and play and talk and eventually the caramel coloring would take effect and we'd be singing silly songs and slinging curse words across the table.

The tiny one car garage at my Great Grandmother's house barely had room for her giant brown 1970's Impala. She kept her sodas in the cardboard boxes provided and stacked them along the garage wall. Back in the days when my brother still consumed meat, we'd load up on sweet and sour chicken from Hong Kong Inn and storm through her front door unannounced. She'd rise from her green sitting chair and immediately begin preparing the kitchen table for our meal. "Get a Coke. You know where they are," she would say. Once the clanging and popping and pouring was complete we'd settle into our usual seats and catch up on the happenings of the week.

After yoga and before Jeopardy my east coast Grandparents often enjoy a rousing game of cards. Players grab snacks and beverages before pulling up to the long wooden antique table. Sodas were once stored in the house, but due to their unhealthy nature have been banished to the garage and reduced to mini-sizes. Carbonation junkies are required to exercise their calves as they journey down the hallway and staircase across the beautifully organized garage to access the devil juice in the tiny black refrigerator. Still, around the table, those delightful popping noises rouse conversation, sarcasm and connection.


There's something about Coke*. Something that brings people together.

Yup. Those are my finger blurs. I take a great picture. 

Ms. Judy, a feisty seventy something lady with billowy white hair and dark serious eyes, preferred to purchase her sodas in bulk - fifteen to twenty cases at a time. In the fridge on the main floor of the Administration building Judy would store a case of each carbonated beverage. Below, in the basement, she would stack the extras. The plethora of cardboard boxes would combine to create a colorful wall of carbonation. Only thirty or so people work at the Haven and maybe eight of them drink a soda on a regular basis. Even when the company downsized the soda supply did not. If suddenly four hundred people descended on The Haven and needed a jolt of bubbly caffeine goodness Ms. Judy was ready.



Often I had seen the generous amount of pop boxes sitting in the basement during my trips to pick up shoes or towels or blankets or something else stored in the dark nether quarters. I assumed the stash was reserved for parties or fundraisers or other business functions so I left it alone. From time to time, when the craving struck me, I'd take a walk down the street to Walgreens and fork over $1.69 for a Coke.

Then, one day, having no money at all and a deep desire for caffeine, I walked across the lawn to the Administration building. Quietly I put my key in the back door, hoping no one was working on the main floor. Tip toeing I snuck into Ms. Judy's kitchen. The smell of fried chicken still lingered in the air. Ms. Judy wasn't just the company's soda supplier, she also prepared all the meals.  She cooked lavish protein rich feasts for the admin boys - steaks, pork chops, filets, you name it. For the preschoolers she prepared more kid friendly dishes - grilled cheese, hot dogs and of course the occasional fried chicken and mashed potatoes. The kitchen and dining room were dark and empty. I could hear the faint sounds of men mumurming about business stuff and whatnot upstairs. Slowly, I opened the double doors to the refrigerator. Pepsi, Coke, Diet Coke, Diet Dr. Pepper, Dr. Pepper, Diet Pepsi, orange soda, root beer - SO MANY CHOICES. It was like Walgreens only better - it was free. As the bright fluorescent refrigerator lights illuminated my face I stood speechless taking in the beauty.

"Hello!" came a familiar voice from the other side of the door. Ms. Judy entered the kitchen carrying grocery bags. Flustered I rambled, "I was just getting...it's been a long day so I needed...I usually go to Walgreens but I thought maybe it would be alright if....I just needed a Coke." "Of course," she beamed, "Anytime, Sarah. Help yourself. Hey I'm trying this new recipe. Tell me what you think." She handed me a chocolate brownie looking thing with caramel and pretzels. I ate it. It was slightly soggy, but delicious. "Yummy. Thank you," and with Coke in hand I walked off  towards my building.

And like that a new connection was made. Over a Coke.

I made many trips to Ms. Judy's kitchen.

Once when I came into work with a slight hangover I sought out an early morning Coke - a long standing hangover cure of mine. Ms. Judy took one look at me and knew exactly what was up. "Had too much sauce last night, eh?" she cackled while cutting up a pineapple. "Ugh. Today's gonna be rough," I lamented while sampling her newest cookie recipe.

We had small moments like this most days  -

"How's your day?"
"Did you see that thing on the news?"
"Going anywhere exciting this weekend?"
"How's your brother?"
"Did you ever get that dishwasher fixed?"
"Would you like a Coke?"
"How about a piece of chocolate?"
"Would you like me to make an extra hot dog for you? Of course, I'll burn it for you Sarah."

I came to learn of Ms. Judy's love of travel, her devout Catholic beliefs, her enjoyment of alcoholic beverages, her lack of knowledge about other co-workers actual names, her husband's interest in golf and her children's various life choices - all in these brief moments.


Then, one day, she was gone.


On Wednesday morning I came to work and I found out there wouldn't be any more moments with Ms. Judy. She died sitting in her chair watching television. All those hellos and how are yous and questions about my life and sharings about her life were gone and replaced with silence.


I burst into tears.


When my Nana died ten years ago I could feel a part of myself become empty. I still had all my organs and two elbows and eyes and ears and I could feel my heart beating and my stomach dropping and my throat closing. All of my toes were still intact and my fingers were fully functional. Though I couldn't identify the location, a part of me that was once full and present was suddenly empty and gone. And it fucking hurt like hell.

Then, after all the crying and screaming and grieving and drinking I began the slow process of regrowing the part of me that vanished.

I collected connections that reminded me of Nana or that somehow honored her memory. I sang "Sugar in the Morning" at inappropriate moments. I told her stories. I taught my friends to play Liverpool Rummy. I reminisced with my brother. I developed a closer relationship with my great grandmother and maternal grandmother. I became a mentor. I prayed. I went to church. I made cookies with my children.  I painted my toenails red. I wore her jewelry. I slammed screen doors. I answered the phone singing. I drank Cokes with white haired ladies in elastic pants.

Eventually I felt less empty.

When my Great Grandmother died I could feel the emptiness expand again. And again I grieved and set out on a quest for connections.

The moment I heard of Ms. Judy's death I felt it again. Smaller, but still, an emptiness.

She wasn't my grandmother or dearest friend. There were hundreds at her funeral with decades of memories and moments with Ms. Judy. Really, I was just a blip in Ms. Judy's life as she was in mine. We spent no more than seventy-two total hours together. Though somehow those small moments made a big impact on me. Through her I found connection to those I had lost.



So, now, here I am, drinking a Coke and finding new ways to connect and fill the empty.





















*This author in no way endorses Coke, Coke products or the Coca-Cola company. Coke is actually pretty bad for you and the Coca-Cola company has done some shitty things over the years. So, take this Coke stuff with a grain of salt or a shot of whiskey.