12/18/2025
Ohh boy… Team, it’s time for another huddle, and buckle up because this is a long one…. and I get all philosophical and talk about feelings and stuff.
TLDR: The bakery will be closed this week.
You may have tried to visit the bakery two weeks ago only to be met with a closed sign. My sincerest apologies. My wife and her brother are grieving the loss of their mother.
We drove 10 hours through the night to be with her in her final moments and like a true mother her final movements were reserved to bring comfort to her two children.
We will be returning to the place she lived out her final years this weekend to celebrate her life and as such I will have to close the bakery despite trying and planning to the best of my abilities. This one just wasn’t in the cards for me.
In between moments of trying to bring solice to my wife, I have been inspired to think more philosophically about my role as your neighborhood baker.
First and foremost it is an honor to serve you. You allow me to be a part of your life and that isn’t something I take lightly.
I hope that my presence isn’t to be endured just to get a good loaf of bread but rather a warm welcoming presence that you look forward seeing, and you happen to walk out with a warm loaf of bread.
One of my favorite things to say to people as they walk through the bakery door is “thank you for being here!” Most people interpret “here” as the bakery, but what I really mean is, thank you for being alive and letting me share and enjoy your presence.
I get glimmers of everyone that walks through the bakery door. Some let their spirit shine bright like a bonfire at a wild party while others are much more guarded, protecting their flame from winds of life.
Sometimes customers are on a mission for bread, and bread only.
Sometimes a customer wabts a croissant and a much needed chat.
Yet other times someone will walk through that bakery door for a much different reason.
Sometimes a soul walks through that door that is much more interested in a temporary reprieve from life’s suffering than a fine viennoiserie.
I always say to myself I’m not just selling bread. If I’m trying to sell anything, I’m trying to sell a warm, constant presence. I want to be a person who makes you feel comfortable and welcome. A person to share life’s trials and tribulations with, if needed, 30 seconds at a time.
Other times I fear I have over thought my role as a shop keeper and I should just “put the fries in the bag,” but after the past few weeks I have come away with a more resolute feeling.
Last week while the bakery was closed I was not a shop keeper but a customer, opening random doors in Texas, in between being present with a person preparing for the ultimate journey, I was desperately hoping to meet kind people to bring me comfort and warmth in a sea of chaos.
It seems as if life has been tossing me around like a ship being battered against a rocky cliff recently. When life gets that way I tend to go on a search for people to toss me a buoy, and it never fails I always my bouy in the form of other kind souls.
I definitely found those souls last week too while I was grief stricken in a forign land. These souls magically emerged, came and went like echos in a canyon, their warm kind faces settling in my heart. These people revealed themselves, one by one, like finishing oil on dry wood leaving behind a much needed warm protective layer on my dry parched heart.
Yes, last week has given me much needed clarity about my role as your neighborhood baker.
I will continue to aspire to be a kind beacon of tranquility for those that are looking for one.
Welcoming you into the bakery is the greatest role I’ve ever been tasked and when the time is right I will return to be that person for you but for now the bakeries operations will be sporadic until the first week of January.
It is an honor to serve you.
