About the Book: 1200 Miles from Los Angeles, by Steven W. Simon
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There's a Starbucks in Grand Rapids, Michigan, that's located close to two Christian colleges: Calvin College and Cornerstone University. It was a great place to work in the early 2000s as I pursued my degree at Grand Valley State.
This was before the automation of Starbucks, when there was still the artistry of coffee making behind their counters. Now, espresso pours with the push of a button, and mobile orders and drive-thrus have eroded Starbucks' "third place" concept.
In the evenings, Christian students would sit at the tables. They would highlight their Bibles and take fastidious notes on paper, on laptops.
Nate, my shift supervisor, was studying to become a preacher at Cornerstone. He was fascinated that I was Jewish. I found it odd, as I was from Detroit, and I knew Jews and Christians and Muslims and Hindus. Western Michigan is different, there are churches... and more churches (also great breweries).
Nate and I were expert closers:
- 10 PM - Doors locked
- 10:10 - Out the door
- 10:15 - Beers in hand
He would always have questions about Judaism, and he was always sincere. There was never any condescension, no covert plans to try and convert me. He was just curious, and I would always struggle to remember what the hell I learned in Hebrew School before my Bar Mitzvah.
It was this sincerity, and perhaps naivety, that let him one evening to say to two young girls ordering Frappacinos, Bibles in hand, "oh, he's Jewish." The two girls turned to me as I poured ice to make their drinks and lit into me with fire in their eyes. How I was ignorant about Jesus, how a fiery Hell awaited me. They could not comprehend how someone would not want to "be saved."
Nate stood, partially hidden by the pastry case, as the words rained down. I don't recall what I said in my defense, but after they sat down, I walked to the back. Nate appeared, and almost in tears, said, "I'm so sorry, I didn't think that would happen." From then on, we kept our conversations about Judaism confined to the bar with beers in hand.
As for my other co-workers, a young girl stopped talking to me when she learned of my religion. John, who attended Cornerstone with Nate, was concerned about my soul, and gifted me a New Testament Study Bible before I left for Chicago. Mack was in a punk band and Rebecca was just the sweetest. My manager was one of the kindest, nicest people I've ever met (and she had horses which is awesome).
Jewish Identity and Developing the Story
1200 Miles from Los Angeles is built upon that occurrence with the two young girls holding Bibles. Of being a "token" in a new place. Showing the ugliness, where in the book it has been dramatized, but based in fact, but also those who are accepting.
I also touch upon my feelings of "Jewish Identity." My mother was raised in a Jewish and Christian household but converted (I guess completely) to Judaism before I was born. My father's side, those who survived The Holocaust, immigrated to the United States after World War II. I was raised Jewish, went to Hebrew School, and was Bar Mitzvah'd. I feel a connectedness to my Jewish self, but it's complicated.
Today, it's my children's turn to complain about Hebrew School. To bargain and tell me all the things they'd rather do than go. The funny thing is, I sit at a Starbucks and read until it's time to pick them up.
About 1200 Miles from Los Angeles
When his car breaks down on his way to Los Angeles, Sanford takes a job at a small-town diner along the interstate to earn the money he needs to keep going west. He learns that his religion means something different there - for better or worse.
About Steven W. Simon
Steven W. Simon is an American writer, and author of the new novella, Ava in Lost Pines. His books focus on outsiders, outcasts, and exposing American truths through fiction. Steven lives and works out of his home near Chicago.