Horn Bar

Megan died in a car accident Saturday night.

I manage a Starbucks in Downtown Indianapolis, and although I work for a very large company, it feels like I manage a small business.  I have a relatively small team of 15 Baristas and Shift Supervisors who work for me, and I feel like they are my kids.

I hired Megan last July, a month after I took over my new store in Indy.  I hired her as much for her smile and personality, as I did for her potential as a barista.  As recently as last Wednesday, we sat down for a few hours and began her training for her upcoming  promotion to Shift Supervisor.  She was bursting with excitement, and could not contain  her enthusiasm or her smile.

Sunday afternoon, (December 23rd), I got a call from Joe, my assistant manager, telling me that Megan had been killed in a car accident Saturday night.  We haven’t been  able to get any details about the accident, so we don’t know where it happened, or if she was alone.    I’ve been searching the newspaper and local TV news websites for information, but apparently Indianapolis is a big enough city now, that a single person fatality car accident is not newsworthy.   Joe said she had a new boyfriend she was just giddy about, so I don’t  know if he was in the car with her, or not.

Today I went into to my store on Christmas Eve to be with my partners, and see if they  were alright.  It took one hug to get me crying again, but for the most part, my partners were not ready to talk about it.  I guess we are all in shock.

I’m going to a Christmas thing for Debbie’s family at her parents house tonight, and though  I’ll enjoy their company, my heart will be heavy tonight.

No cute way to tie up this blog entry, except to suggest that you hug your loved ones  this Christmas for a moment longer than you usually do.

13 years ago, I lost one of my best friends from high school.

Jeff Smith died in a car accident on December 3, 1994, at the age of 33, leaving behind a wife and a family of sons, as well as, countless friends and memories.  I’d recount some of the memories here, but it’s just not the same if you didn’t know the guy, or the context.

Although, hitting a drive off the 9th tee directly into a full Edgewood Country Club swimming pool on a hot summer day will always be funny, especially when his response was a hearty, "It’s IN the pool!!!"

I miss my friend, but 13 years after his death, memories of Big Smitt come often, and always with a smile.  His spirit lives on in stories shared among our gang on emails, and especially in his sons.

Here’s to the memory of a big man, with a big heart…..Big Smitt