Now that sweet's gone sour Seeping down the cracks Mm, getting worse by the hour

I am not adverse to change. I question change. I challenge the efficacy of change. I have a never-ending, insatiable need to know why.

Heidi's Pies is set to close in December of this year, and, whilst intellectually I know, emotionally I have to know why.

Is 45 years enough time to have loved something enough?

Heidi's Pies is just one of those places that, like God, Coca Cola, and death & taxes, remains ubiquitous. I have always lived in a time when it has existed. Whilst I believe that it's no longer a 24 hour establishment, when it does close these days is a bit fuzzy. Unlike Denny's, which, though also 27/7 in its operation at most (existing) locations, Heidi's is a singular establishment and not a chain restaurant. It is family owned and operated. The portions are huge. The décor, though dated to some, is perfectly nostalgic and charming to me. Nations, of course, also exists, but, again, it's not the same. 

I find myself already writing "was" instead of "is," even though, as of right now, Heidi's is still there.

I always worry that I have not loved something enough. 

Did I go there enough?

Did I love that one location of FRY's enough? Did I love Splash Mountain enough? Did I love that old San Mateo train station enough? Did I email or text or call my friend that passed away enough? Did I really enough Sea Bowl enough? Did I make the best of Bethlehem, AD enough?  Did I spend enough time with Beatrice before she passed? Did I spend enough time with my grandmother? Did I love enough?

Am I enough?

Heidi's Pies exists as a core memory, beyond sentimental and fits somewhere in the fiber of my being I'd consider sacramental. I even wrote a song that mentions Heidi's Pies, about driving around aimlessly at night, knowing that you will at some point end up there, but also know you're gotta be up to no good in the meantime. Heidi's Pies was, and is, forever a beacon in the night.  For all the aimless wandering, the ache through certain stretches of El Camino Real that are wooded and dark, poorly lit even in the more urban parts of it, you knew it was going to be open.

I couldn't be in that part of the world for years. It represented sadness, death, ache, and loss. It was only recently when I could be there again. Again, I ask myself, did I spend enough time there? Was I enough?

I used to work right near there, in one of the worst jobs I have ever had. Every night I would either leave to go to the Hayward Park station (often in the winter in the dark, no less), or I would walk to the bus stop that was in front of Heidi's Pies, to catch a bus that no longer exists, and has been consolidated to what is now known as the ECR. It was just an hour of me and my iPod. It was a bad time (lmao).

More than just my own nostalgia or selfishness, I mourn our collective loss of third spaces. More and more, not only are we losing third spaces, but we are losing third spaces without alcohol. We are losing our sense of community. We are losing hallmarks of our communities, we are losing touchstones for seminal life moments. Heidi's Pies has always been more than small place along El Camino to go late at night after a show, or a place to be silly after work. It was, and is, until the day is actually closes, a safe place for people. A place of security, comfort, and consistency. It was a place where people for the last 45 years had seminal life moments they didn't know were seminal at the time. I mourn family businesses I want to support, but can't always because I can't afford to. I want to support local restaurants, but can't afford to.

We have no more safe spaces to hang out and be a community, and I think that's part of what's gotten us all into trouble.

Denny's in Linda Mar was the place where all the drunks from Cheers stumbled our into when the bar closed, where the kids with blue hair who "hated their parents" lived in the nice homes in the Back of the Valley-- yet dressed and lived in a constant state of ripped hoodies and being unwashed--made lots of noise and ordered next to nothing, where all of the annoying theatre kids would spill into after a show. Heidi's Pies is the home away from home.

I wonder if the people who can afford to support these places and just don't feel the same level of guilt that I do.

I wish things were less sleek and modernized. I wish they could all be like Heidi's Pies and just left the way that they are, cozy and frozen in time. A time where hard work actually meant something, a time when third spaces actually existed. A place the words fernweh and Anemoia were invented for. Between the rug and the teal seats at the bar, the décor from the mid-70s which has never been updated, the charm of the lighting fixtures, there's always been something special about the place that was always open and almost-always full.

We are losing all of these places, and we are losing who we are.  We don't know who we are anymore, and I think this is a crucial part of the reason why.

There is some time between now and December. The official date has not been set yet. I will be visiting once a month (at least) before it closes. I will still question if I have done enough, if I have loved it enough, did I patronize it enough. Did I take enough people there? Did I share my love for it enough? Did I make enough memories there? There are about 7 or 8 months left of memories to be made there, so let's go and make them.