After over a decade of traveling around the United States and finding new homes in such places as the City of Angels and the City of Presidents, I’ve recently returned home to the place that started it all: Holden, MA. To die? Who could say. Not me. I’m not a psychic or a doctor, and I don’t much believe in either, thank you very much.

Anyway, through my many travels I’ve encountered a number of men and ladies, and even a couple of buds, who asked me to describe the place where I grew up. A little nosy, but I don’t mind these kinds of deep heart-to-hearts after a couple wines or beers or what have you.

How do you describe Holden? What is Holden? I found the best I could come up with was the following little quip:

“Holden is a place where the women wear Lululemon, but there’s no Starbucks.”

I felt it encapsulated things perfectly. It’s the kind of place where people have money, but with a sort of down-home podunkery that kept the big bad corporations at bay. Sure, we have Dunkin’, but I’m pretty sure that’s written into the state’s founding charters so as not to cause open revolt in the streets of any given Massachusetts town. Otherwise, we believed in our small town, our small businesses, and our small smallness.

It’s quaint and cute and charming in a way few things are these days, or at least not all three. I’ve been to Nowhere, Arkansas, where the liquor store was a rickety shed, and buddy, it was small, but there wasn’t anything cute or charming about it, brother. Not like Holden.

So, you’d imagine my surprise when I rolled back into town and saw something that shook me to my core. And no, I don’t mean the closure of Holden Institution and the rumored mafia front Orbit Pizza, though I did shed one manly tear for those delicious tuna Syrians.

No, I’m talking about the big old Starbucks-shaped building that’s popped up in town.

“That looks like a Starbucks,” I thought.

“It is,” said the sign. “Coming soon, buckeroo.”

“Holden is a place where the women wear Lululemon and there is a Starbucks?” That could be anywhere. That’s literally anywhere. Are we no better than Shrewsbury?

Now look, to be fair, Starbucks did not consult with me and my little quip before deciding to set up shop in my hometown. And between you and me, sometimes, in my darkest hour, I start to think Starbucks doesn’t even know who I am. I’m sure there are a whole bunch of people excited to get their pink drinks, their bear-shaped collectible coffee mugs, and their egg bites right here in the home of your Wachusett Mountaineers. Far be it from me to deprive you of the little corporate treats and joys you need to get by in this crazy, mixed-up world.

It’s just shocking, is all. And not in the nice way.

I stopped at Brilla’s drive-through and ordered a flat white.

“We don’t do flat whites in the drive-through.”

I panicked and ordered a Sunshine Latte. Delicious.

I think we’re going to be okay.

Thanks for reading. Check out my Substack “locker room guy.” BrianpDowd.substack.com.