Cove: (n) a small indentation or recess in the shoreline of a sea, lake, or river
Clever will only take you so far.
This is true in any occupation, but certainly must be observed faithfully by the writer.
For you see, I am going to tell a story today about when I was sixteen. The temptation is to preface this story with an introductory sentence
which sounds cool, or what they might refer to as “off-the-top-of-the-head-ish.”
- when I young
- back when pimples were my major problem
- long before anybody called me Dad
- in an era when I languished in my teens
You see what I mean?
Although at times these little scribbled affrontations are passable, they can get old very quickly, even if you’re talking about being young.
So suffice it to say, at one time in my life I decided to start a coffeehouse for the fellow-students at my high school. This was back when such an idea seemed expansive and other-worldly rather than old-timey and really out of it.
I found a small house—so tiny it was difficult to believe anybody had ever lived in it. But you could stuff about thirty-five people in, on the ground floor, if everybody agreed to inhale and exhale in unison.
It was perfect.
I covered the windows so no external lighting could come in, installed black lights and put colored bulbs around to give it a spooky effect.
We could not decide what to call the place, but one night, as we pulled up, we noticed it looked like an old fisherman’s cabin. So someone suggested we call it, “The Cove.” Actually, the suggestion was “The Fisherman’s Cove,” but as the weeks went by, the adjective was dropped, and it became known as “The Cove.”
All the students at the school jockeyed for the right to be one of the holy thirty-five to come to The Cove on a Saturday night, to sit around and eat bologna sandwiches and listen to the rock music our parents were sure would lead us to hell.
As it turned out, the rock and roll music did not take us to hell, but unfortunately, the bologna sandwiches gave us cholesterol problems.