Grace for the market goers:
Tom and Laurie Coke
By Patrice Vecchione
Photography by Geneva Liimatta
Farmers Laurie and Tom Coke are a strikingly handsome pair—both of them are tall and thin, have short white hair, weathered skin. For years, on every Friday from spring through December, you could find them at the Monterey Bay Certified Farmers’ Market at Monterey Peninsula College.
A couple of years ago, Laurie stopped doing the selling. “The money,” she said, referring to making change, “is too much for me.” But every Friday, there she was, standing beside the farm truck with her husband in view, watching the market unfold, abundance everywhere you looked—the quick-paced women out for a week’s worth of produce on their lunch breaks; the young parents with toddlers in tow who dance together to the bluegrass band; and the lingering others who know the farmers’ market is about more than groceries.
Laurie used to recognize me, but she hasn’t for a while. Once that became evident, I shied away, embarrassed to be perceived as a stranger every time we saw each other. But standing on the sidelines, I’d watch other market goers continue to approach her, and Laurie received them, each and all, week after week, beaming with delight and curiosity, often taking their hands in hers.
The next week, a bit tentatively, I went up to her, and Laurie greeted me affectionately, looked into my eyes with her piercing blue ones. We talked like familiars who’d not seen each other for a spell. But it felt like more than that. When I walked away after that 5-minute visit, my step was lighter and my smile more true. After that, I’d say hello each week. She’s never hurried, accepts whatever I share—joy, silliness, frustration—with equanimity. There is something about those eyes, her patience, that lets me say things, sharing more than the words.
Laurie, too, likes the sun on her face; often she’d touch my face and kiss me. A visit with Laurie is a gift of grace. I think, after all these years, I may have found my muse in human form. I’ll bet she’d chuckle if I told her that; she’d bat my words away.
When I told Laurie that I was writing a new book, she asked several pertinent questions, considered my answers, then looked away, staring into the middle distance and said, “I’d like to do something like that someday, but I don’t know that I will.” Turning back to me, she said, “You, though, you’ve got lots of books inside. They’re lining up to be written, ready when you are.” That made me squirm. Not that I didn’t like her words; they just made me a little nervous. Laurie pulled me close, kissed my cheek and wished me a good day.
With my arms full of the Cokes’ Italian beans and kale, escarole and fat leeks, I tell Tom, who now works the market alone, about my encounter with his wife. “Yes,” he says, pensively, “her grace. I’ve got to remember that.”
Later when I share this with my elderly father who doesn’t get out much and never goes far, but hasn’t lost an ounce of his artist’s sensibility, he suggests that maybe one of the books Laurie was referring to might be her own, and that I might help her write it.
“But Pop, she’s got Alzheimer’s. Each day would be like beginning again.”
“And that would be so bad?” he replies.
Monterey artist and poet Patrice Vecchione’s new book, Step Into Nature: Nurturing Imagination and Spirit in Everyday Life, is just out from Beyond Words/Simon & Schuster. For her upcoming events, go to www.patricevecchione.com.
SPRING FARMERS’ MARKETS
Research by Amber Turpin
About the author
At Edible Monterey Bay, our mission is to celebrate the local food culture of Santa Cruz, San Benito and Monterey Counties, season by season. We believe in sustainability, and we believe everyone has a right to healthful, clean and affordable food. We think knowing where our food comes from is powerful, and we hope our magazine, website and newsletters inspire readers to get to know and support our local growers, fishers, chefs, vintners and food artisans.
