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Sometimes the Triplicate’s lobby reminds me of an old-time Paris “salon” — a welcome gathering place for all sorts of different people.
On any given day, George hand-delivers his letter to the editor along with a bag of fresh grapefruit or lemons from his property down south; Fred stops in to alert us when the newspaper rack at the post office isn’t working properly; Jeff drops off newspaper clippings from the San Francisco Chronicle and the New York Times about the latest food movement because he knows I’ll enjoy reading them.
Earlier this week we received a customer’s subscription payment mailed to us in a Valentine’s Day card. Her handwritten message thanked the folks at the Triplicate “for your service and attention.”
And if you look at page B3 today, you’ll notice Triplicate fans Lee and Norbert Beising profess their love for us in Love Lines.
From the conscientious bill payers and passionate letter writers to the grieving family members placing an obituary, the folks who pass through our lobby are welcome and appreciated. Some encounters are poignant and heartbreaking, especially when the obituary is for a child. No matter how many times I’ve experienced that horror over the years, it doesn’t get any easier.
But there are lighter moments, too. Proud grandmothers bringing in the photo of their newborn grandchild for publication with the birth announcement, and equally proud owners of litters who walk in with a “sample” for us to cuddle while they place their “puppies for sale” ad.
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Opinion 
