Bethany sent an email today with another detail from Evan. There’s an old Mr. Coffee in his barracks room. Evan’s a primo barista who cut his chops at the Summit when in high school—so he’s, well… a bit of a coffee snob. But there’s no good coffee on his base and no filters for the maker.
He asked me to run down to Summit, pick up some fresh ground and mail it to him—with a stack of filters (unbleached only, please). To get it out today, I walked to the Summit and asked the barista for a bag. Faced with a hundred kinds of beans, I said Evan worked there in HS, so what would they recommend for a fellow barista; he’d been in Iraq for a few weeks and really missing good coffee. We picked out a few bags, and with a big smile, they said it was on the house. “And tell him whenever he needs more fuel, we’ll take care of him.”
That was really nice, and the sentiment a really big deal for us. I told Beth, and she relayed the story back to Evan later, when he got one more call out. He said “Cool, I’ll get a picture of me and my bags of Summit in Iraq and send it to them.”
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