Hi, I’m Kristina

They say that on the road to recovery you’re supposed to make a list of the people you’ve hurt with your addiction and to make amends. But despite my pre-midterm clarity, it may be too late to repair one of my most important relationships.

This January, Toscanini’s faces removal from its current Mass. Ave locale and I fear that I am partially responsible for its precarious fate. Yes, Harvard Real Estate Services decided to renovate the property, which it owns, and force the leasing stores to relocate. But I’ve made bad choices too.

Toscanini’s, I’m sorry for those times the ubiquitous green logo of commercialized Seattle lattes lured me away from your independently-owned silver “T.” I regret the days I forgot my wallet and had to use my CrimsonCash on weak Barker Center brews. I wish I could take back my moments of weakness—in which I stood shaking on DeWolfe Street slurping down 24 ounces of iced Dunkin’ Donuts coffee in mere minutes—but I can’t. I can only hope that you’ll stick around long enough that I’ll get a second chance.

Leave the overstuffed chairs and mellow Norah Jones soundtrack to the TF meetings and uncomfortably-attached couples in Starbucks. You—with your lack of seating, loud-noise rock, and homeless clientele—are the perfect wingman for the charitable, yet brief, grabbing of coffee with the awkward kid from section. I don’t want the yuppie strollers and biodegradable footprint-patterned carafes of Peet’s—give me plain cups and the cacophony of the Square any day.

I skip the Mather shuttle so I can visit you on my walk to the Yard—without you, how can I rationalize coming to lecture 15 minutes late? I am always surprised by your unique and occasionally bizarre ice cream variety—if you leave, I’ll never get to try the “Grape Nuts” flavor! Where else would tattooed and pierced townies custom mix Earl Grey and Crimson Berry tea when I need both caffeine and Vitamin C?

I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be angry. I understand your needs too. I just can’t believe you might not be there when I need you most. I’m not sure I can write my thesis, spend late nights at The Crimson, and stress about my future without you.

Sure, Lamont will soon have a café where procrastinating first-years can update their MySpace.com page while spilling coffee on the reserve books. But the whole point of a “coffee break” is to get up, stretch the legs, and clear your mind while the cold winds outside Wigglesworth make your eyes tear.

Your $1 coffee specials are all that get me through reading period. There are countless students like me in need of a smile, a strange brew of Vietnamese coffee, and a fix to cure midwinter blues. I don’t want to come back for my 25th reunion to see a shoe store—or worse, another bank— in your place. I want to be able to share a cone of Cake Batter ice cream with my children and show them where mommy had an existential crisis/nervous breakdown/bad first date. There are memories inside your tiny, yellowing walls.



Kristina M. Moore ’08, the Arts Chair, is a history and literature concentrator in Dunster House.