A Farewell to Amore

Some people go south for spring break. Me?  I’m in St. Paul, for the the second day in a row.

Yesterday, I traveled to St. Paul (that’s 45 miles north of Northfield, for those of you who are geographically challenged) for a dentist visit, and then spent a few hours at the Minnesota History Center looking through the library’s extensive files on Louis W. Hill for more information about my great-grandfather’s cowboy band.

(I didn’t dig up any earth-shattering information, but I did pick up some ideas about how I could better organize all the material I’ve accumulated on G. Oliver Riggs.  That might be a project for another spring break).

Today, I’m at my favorite St. Paul neighborhood coffee shop, Amore Coffee on Grand Avenue, spending the morning writing while Steve works with residents at the United Family Health Center.  Later, we’ll meet for lunch and some shopping.

And the kids?  What kids?  Oh, the three responsible young adults who live in our house?  They opted to stay home and have a leisurely, unsupervised morning.  Perhaps they will clean the house while I’m gone.  Or maybe not.  What’s nice is that they are old enough enough to manage themselves and the dog for the day. 

Farewell to Amore
I wasn’t sure if Amore Coffee would still be open; I’d heard that it lost its lease and would close this spring, bumped out because the building owner wants to put in a big Anthropologie store.

Today’s the last day for Amore Coffee on Grand Avenue.

Turns out, I arrived on its last day.  I discovered this when I ordered a large latte and a maple pecan scone and the total came to $6.66.

“Ooh – that’s ominous,” I said to the coffee shop owner, who rang me up.

“It’s fitting for today,” she said.

The store has served customers in this location for 18 years.  That’s a lot of lattes, and a lot of memories.  It makes me sad that it’s being forced to close.  Although it does have a sister store in West St. Paul, just off the high bridge on Smith Avenue, it’s a long trek for the regulars in this neighborhood – who, as I write this, keep streaming in to buy one last cup and say goodbye.