Java Zen, LLC

What if this were true...

The paper's 54-page ethics guidelines - a Rube Goldberg-ian chastity belt that appears to have been hewn by a platoon of lawyers - and the Times' application of them neglects the most corrupting influences facing its writers and editors: the pressure to conform to the consensus view.

Jack Shafer on the failings of the New York Times ethics cops.

The Zen enso on the main page was created by my coffee cup after setting it on a manila file folder. But there is much more to the story.

The place was The Market on Larimer Street in Denver. A casuality of the lock-downs, it was an archetypal Third Place for over 40 years. Indeed, it was my Third Place for over thirty of those years. Too many meetups and engaging conversations to count. It was a place to find and explore ideas.

On the occasion of the Coffee Cup Enso, I had been thoroughly immersed in a conversation with a half-dozen of us regulars. We ranged wide, traveling through business, politics, science, and religion. The thing about The Market was that not only was the coffee excellent, the coffee cups were big and included one free refill. If you wanted more, there was a piggy bank at the barista's where you could drop in whatever you though another cup was worth to you.

The Market was a place to hang out any time of day. The crowd on a weekday morning just before everyone's business got underway was different from the crowd on a Friday evening looking for a place to catch up after a DCPA performance or CSO concert. I loved this variety and depth to its character. More than any other place I can think of except for home, The Market had a soul. And for that, I have the founders, owners, and excellent (and long-time) staff to thank.

As we regulars finished our conversation and began to dissolve back into our personal lives, I noticed the circular coffee stain on one of the manila folders I had with me. Pausing for a moment, I thought that the last few hours were some of the most enjoyable I'd spent and wondered how long I would carry the memory of this moment, punctuated as it was with a perfect enso.