Last Wednesday, Food as a Verb began pre-gaming the 250th celebration of the United States, only 12 weeks away.

We called it Little America: in our corner pocket of the US, can we celebrate and name all the parts and pieces we love? To quote the eternal Pink: get the party started.

Then, on Friday, April 10, two days later about writing this, my friend Mel Cooper died.

According to his obituary in the Times Free Press, he was raised working in the family's Electric Waffle Shop, a Somerville restaurant his grandmother started during the Depression.

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His parents died young, which alters the heart in profound ways, as though a crossroad appears: one road leading towards shut-down, the other limping towards open-ness, deeper love and depth from such trauma and brokenness.

Mel built a career in education: a teacher, then a pioneering director of development for multiple schools.

But the truest endowment he built was with people.

He practiced the truest form of development work: kindness. He loved others.

I was struck by the news of his death; it was like a string from some grand piano had been cut or muted. The song won't be the same for a long while now.

Every time I saw him, Mel was unshakeable in the way he treated me. You felt respected, seen and valued. What a rare and precious gift to offer the world. How valuable are men like this? How much did — does? — the world spin on its axis because of the sturdiness and steadiness of Mel Cooper's kindness?

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Little America is full of people like this. (At his side, another perfect example: his wife, Eleanor.) Paradoxically, these folks are both rare but also everywhere. There was only one Mel Cooper, and it was a gift knowing him, but the spirit of Mel Cooper is found in thousands of people across this city.

"Throughout his life, Mel loved good food," his obit continued. "He was known for the marvelous meals he prepared for family and friends."

Enjoy — can I use that word? — his obit; it reflects such a full life. He worked in so many circles among so many different parts of this city.

But for me, the torch I'd lift highest to honor Mel? Every time I saw him, I felt loved and respected. He was — in that way — among the most unconditional people I know.

I've long imagined heaven as containing some viewable, felt tapestry, where you can witness all the ways — slight, often invisible or missed in our daily lives — that we impact others, and vice versa. Impact isn't strong enough: more like alter, change, move, recast, transmute ... give life to.

The tapestry is full of small moments; the threads are always slight. Mel's tapestry stretches across horizons; this is his infinity, made up of all these moments where he never doubted the ongoing yield and dividends from treating others with such warmth and respect.

Maybe you knew him, maybe you didn't. But you know somebody like him, even if it's just a passing touch or encounter in the grocery line or hardware store. There is an effervescence or radiance, the first scent of jasmine or tomato plants in the wind, that emanates these people and the moments they orchestrate. You just know. Something inside ... just knows.

I am safe and cared for and respected.

This is true development work: to uplift others, to encourage and befriend. This is Mel Cooper's great endowment to Chattanooga and Little America:

Always remember the yield, nature and power of kindness.

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* It's springtime; for many of us, it's chick-time. If you're interested in raising hens, here's a good offer from our friends at Sequatchie Cove Farm.

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Interested? Pullets let you jumpstart the line; sure, you miss the sweetness of tiny chicks, but you get birds that are already laying eggs.

Kelsey Keener's contact is below.

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* Finally, two events, two save-the-dates. We'll announce more next week.

And Saturday, April 25, Troy Rogers is hosting a Re-Entry Gala, which promises to be among the most powerful nights in a long time in this city.

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And, two nights later, on Monday, April 27, Spencer Streno of St. Reno Events is hosting the inaugural Chatt. Cup, which celebrates "Chattanooga’s cocktail culture and to create community in Chattanooga's craft cocktail community."

How?

A bartender competition. Spencer, who's competing?

"Amada, Elsie's Daughter, Fifty-Fifty, Mean Jeen's and Wanderlinger," Spencer said.

The kicker?

"Every bar has an assigned Queen song for their live build of their cocktail presentation."

Don't you love Little America, too?

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This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.

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