Five Stages Of Grief Over "Perk"

In small towns across the country, there are places that stand out as “hot spots,” gathering places where community is the focus.

In this day and age of big box stores, chains and franchises, the concept of independent business is beginning to fade. It’s a very sad thing, not just for the small business owners, but also for the people in those communities.

I debated writing about the closing of “Perk on Main” in Emmaus, but to me, it’s comparable to losing a friend or loved one. It is something that has greatly affected me this week, and I have a feeling there are others who might share my reaction to the sudden news.

For those of you unfamiliar with the “Perk,” it’s a wonderful coffee shop on the Triangle in downtown Emmaus. It is a place that has brought the community together for the past decade, and has had a deep impact on my role as a mother, friend and resident of this quaint community.

When Jill Killo bought Perk from the previous owner four years ago, I was six months pregnant. She and I shared a common ground in motherhood. Naturally, it was nice to have that “mom” connection, but Jill has offered so much more than that.

From the moment I walked through the door, Jill and her staff offered friendly smiles and welcomed my family and many others by name. They sincerely wanted to know how our day was going and what was new in our lives. How many businesses offer that sort of genuine customer service?

If I requested to use the private “back room” for book club, moms’ club coffee breaks, or any other personal event, Jill was quick to oblige. She’d even keep the store open a little longer so we could get drinks, and then told us to lock up when we were done. She trusted us. Many memories were made at Perk through the years. It was these little things that made us feel like family.

Some may think it’s extreme, but I’ve been going through what Elisabeth Kuebler-Ross outlined in her 2005 book, “On Grief and Grieving,” -- denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance , otherwise known as the “five stages of grief.”

When I first heard the news, I felt denial.

“This news couldn’t be true!” I told my friends. “It’s GOT to be an April Fool’s joke,” I added, since Jill said she was closing April 1.

Everything in me wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. I think the same was true for others who were hearing the news. This was our “Cheers.” Everybody really did know your name. Where else could we go where we felt these bonds?

Then anger set in.

How could this be happening to our place, our Perk, when it was the ONE thing we felt was constant and good? Everyone loves the Perk!

People from other towns envied us for having such a wonderful community-gathering place. They would come from miles just to sit with a steamy cup of something warm and to experience the mood of a place of which they’d so often heard.

It just wasn’t fair.

Before I knew it, I was coming up with ways to keep the Perk alive (bargaining). There had to be someone out there who could offer financing, an investor of some sort. There was too much to lose!

The thought even occurred to me to see how many Perk patrons would volunteer to work a few hours each week – free – just to keep the doors open. There had to be a way to make it work! Maybe we could do a fundraiser.

Once it was clear that this was indeed the Perk’s fate, sadness fell upon me.

How would I see all of these wonderful people on a weekly basis? Where would I work remotely and meet with clients? What about all of those memories of my kids growing up there, drinking hot chocolate while they sat with the town librarian who called them by name and asked how their goats were doing?

We’ve made some amazing memories at the Perk. However, it seems as if a chapter of our lives is coming to an end. So now I face the next stage … with a sense of acceptance and reflection.

It wasn’t the business itself that meant so much to us; it was the people involved.

Jill and her staff became family to me. They offered a refuge on days when I needed an escape from being “mom.” I wasn’t just another customer. I was a guest.

These small-town gathering places are essential to community. It’s where the hearts of our towns lie. We need to do more to shop locally, stay community-minded and do our part in keeping the “Perks” of the world alive.