She was an enchanting conversationalist – the short lady with the bright smile, luminous green eyes and movie star looks; the shop owner always eager to know about you and your family and your dreams; the immigrant who talked with a delightful Hungarian accent. She ran a small tailoring and tuxedo rental shop. People invented excuses to drop in to talk with her. She made a living, but money was tight.
When my dad was out of town, she needed to hear his voice every day – to know that he was alive, to discern from his tone of voice if he was okay, to learn bits of news, to love and connect. But they couldn't afford long-distance telephone calls. What to do?
My grandma invented Alice Good. She derived the name from the Yiddish-German phrase, "Alle ist gut." (All is good.) He’d call for Alice Good.
In those days, if you called long distance "station-to-station," you'd be charged no matter who picked up the phone. If you called "person-to-person," you would not be charged if the person wasn't home. Alice Good was never home.
Before hanging up, she’d share a bit of news. "Alice isn't here right now. She went to the beach with her cousins. It's a beautiful sunny day. Try tonight." At that moment of loving connection, all was good. So that's what Alice Good Coffee is about. Love and connection. Across borders and accents. Closing the distances between us.