Featured

Good Food, Great Vibes, Chill Time: Moscow, Idaho

The hubs and I have a knack for experiencing much in a short bit of time. Here’s our scoop on a quick overnight getaway to Moscow, Idaho: heart of Palouse farm country, home of University of Idaho, haven for quiet evenings.

First things first: Where to stay.

Jeff is becoming a bit of an Air B&B master. He selected Paradise View Bed & Breakfast – a lovely home in the country, with a peaceful view, friendly hosts, even friendlier dogs, and perfectly private accommodations. Our suite had its own separate entrance with great views from the inside and outside alike.

Paradise View B&B
The friendly critters at Paradise View B&B

Second: Where to go for dinner.

The maître D and hosts at Lodgepole know my husband by name and seat him in his favorite spot along the brick wall. But Lodgepole has done an amazing job creating beautiful outdoor spaces as well. And it doesn’t matter where you eat your meal, because the menu is phenomenal. We had the braised beef rigatoni with Cougar Gold cheese and the linguini with clams for the main course, following a tasty, fresh seeded bread with whipped honey butter. For dessert, a triple layer ice cream cake with a swipe of thick fudge and sea salt on the side. The Moscato from Willamette Valley and the espresso from Evans Brothers Coffee (Sandpoint) finished off desert with perfection.

Braised beef rigatoni with Cougar Gold cheese; linguini with kale and clams

Stuff to do.

Besides sitting on the patio, reading and visiting with the dogs, and watching the endless activity of birds and hummers, we found plenty to do on a summer Saturday. First up, a visit to the NRS headquarters – a must for anyone who loves to paddle the lakes and rivers of the Pacific Northwest. They have an amazing in-store selection of dry bags and boxes like you’ll never see in another recreational outfitter.

NRS headquarters

Saturdays in Moscow are market days, with the main strip closed off for foot traffic only – the street lined with white tents and vendors selling a wide variety of wares from food and drink to home décor and clothing. If you’re still needing a second (or third) cup of joe to keep you going, Bucer’s Pub is always a good option for a local brew. But on this day, we opted for Panhandle Cone and Coffee, because … ice cream and coffee in one shop?! Yes please! I had an affogato (espresso poured over ice cream) with salted caramel ice cream and the Evans Brothers’ house blend.

Ice cream of dreams, and affogato.

Returning to Spokane.

The Palouse Scenic Byway is a treat to drive, dotted with small farming towns amid the fields of wheat, lentils and garbanzo beans. There’s plenty of history in the area – part of which serves as the reservation for the Coeur d’Alene Tribe of Indians. We opted for a solemn stop at Desmet, Idaho, named after Father Pierre DeSmet, a Jesuit who established a number of missions among the indigenous peoples of the Northwest in the 1800s. But another, longer option, is to drive the vista road of Mary Minerva McCroskey State Park.

Now: Where to next?

Yes, This is Hate.

The Hanging of Qualchan, Spokane County

I’ve always enjoyed driving the country roads through the Palouse territory south of Spokane – especially in summer when the wheat is growing and blowing in the breeze. On one such trip, I came upon a spot at Hangman Creek where a brown historical marker bid me to pull off the road. It was the monument marking the hanging of Qualchan and 6 other Indians by Col. George Wright during the Indian Wars of 1858. At the time, it was news to me, and disturbing.

At least a decade later, I left home on another summer evening to go find that spot on purpose. It’s not necessarily easy to find – either digitally or on a printed map. I was fairly certain I’d find the way, and as the remaining sun left for the day, I did. We pulled in as the horizon was pink behind the pine trees, and the first thing we noticed was the flowers – two pots of red and white geraniums. I was surprised to discover they were real; someone is visiting regularly with water to keep them alive. Behind the stone was also a small trash can and a bag in it, convenient for tidying up the area after careless people leave their traces behind.

But someone has left a number of thoughtful gifts at what had become a memorial at the base of the monument. Lying on a tapestry were sage, feathers, jewelry, a cigarette, rolling papers, beads, and carefully arranged pinecones. We search the car for anything appropriate to leave as a token of our respect, and found a beautiful rock we had picked up on an earlier drive.

My teenager wanted to know more of the context for this event, and pondered aloud why it is that people have historically been so eager to assert authority over others. We discussed those tough topics on the eave of the fourth of July when so many Americans will celebrate the nation’s independence from the control of another. Ironic how eager the colonial settlers were to establish freedom for themselves and so quickly take others captive.

Before heading back toward civilization for late summer-night ice cream, I stopped at the creek and simply listened. I heard an owl, a bullfrog, a marmot, and a few varieties of birds. It was a perfectly peaceful moment tied to a moment wrought with hate.

And that brings be to the title of his course: “Contemporary Strategies for Countering Hate.” I must admit that I thought it was a misnomer – “hate” having become a term used freely in the last few years of social activism around racial injustice. Would it really be about “hate”? I wondered. But after six weeks of throwing myself headlong into research of the Native American community in Spokane – the Jesuit archives, state records, countless history sources, missionary diaries, and contemporary research on documents written more than a century ago – I conclude that yes, it is about hate.

Nothing but hate could propel a man like Col. Wright to commit the atrocities he did. And while missionaries, Protestant and Catholic alike – certainly would have avowed to do what they did out of love, there was hatred for what they believed to be repulsive customs of the indigenous people. What could prompt Governor Isaac Stephens to befriend chiefs like Spokane Garry, to the point of writing friendly letters back and forth, and then to turn his back on them for the sake of property lines? What would cause the wealthy businessmen to commercialize a beautiful riverfront already inhabited for centuries by other people? One could argue that greed was the impetus, not hate, but what is greed other than hating the very idea that someone else could profit from something you want?

I’m grateful for the incredible learning that has taken place through this course. The texts, the honest discussions with classmates, the vulnerable discussion board posts, and the depth of research I was able to do with support from a research mate and a liaison from the Native community. The learning has been intellectually challenging, emotionally taxing, and socially demanding. There is no way to unlearn what has been grasped, no way to erase the truth exposing all the partial perspectives in the American story we’ve grown up believing.

There is no going back. Only forward. The walking meditations to the site of Spokane Garry’s school at Drumheller Springs, the kayaking meditations on the Spokane River, the drives and walks to breathe in the air at the locations of atrocities all around my city – these will continue.

I hope some day there will be more makeshift memorials with gifts of respect at the locations where current-day monuments only tell part of a story. Onward toward truth in place of life, toward love instead of hate.


This reflection is part of a walking meditation project for a graduate course, “Contemporary Strategies to Counter Hate,” at Gonzaga University. Other walking meditations include:

Beware of Suspicious Activity

Trespassing at Muir Hill

Finding Chief Garry at an Urban Spring

The River Speaks

I Know You Broke the River

Featured

White Coffee and Wise Community

Published in the July 2021 issue of Spokane-Coeur d’Alene Living magazine

A few blocks north of Gonzaga University on Hamilton Avenue sits a small coffee shop with two garage doors indicative of a previous automotive life. Permanently parked in front is a classic 60’s VW Beetle, black, with the Arctos Coffee logo (a bear in the woods) painted on the door. Given its proximity to the college campus, Arctos is a hot spot for students, furiously studying or simply hanging out.

But there’s another kind of customer who’s usually first in line any day of the week: a septuagenarian named Kent Ross, who orders a mocha every time. Several times a week, friends meet him for conversation; other days, he passes the time in a bit of small talk with students and other regular customers.

“I like getting to know the owners, and Jason here is a good guy,” Kent said.

Having worked for and then owned his father’s trucking business, Kent knows the value and challenges of a small business in Spokane, where he’s lived his whole life. Once an adventure runner who trekked the mountains of the Northwest and completed 500 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail, life following a major stroke isn’t as active as he might like. He traveled to Europe, enjoyed hearing authors at Auntie’s Books, and volunteered for the food bank. But things are slower now and showing up at Arctos when the doors open is what keeps him going.

“When they had to change things during the pandemic restrictions, I asked if they could open at 6:30 instead of 7:00, and they did,” Kent said. “That’s why I feel like I should be here every morning.”

Owner Jason Everman created Arctos in 2018, with the help of his dad, Jim. His business focus would be on a small selection of beans for a standard blend that can be roasted to consistent perfection. The Arctos staple comes from two South American beans roasted separately then blended. He also has made white coffee a standard, which offers an extra boost of caffeine with a unique flavor.

“White coffee is a very beautiful alternative to your traditional espresso-based drinks. It tastes completely different,” Jason said. Roasted for half the time of a regular medium roast coffee, these beans are dropped into the cooling bin soon after they lose their green hues, producing results he describes as “beautiful golden beans that smell and taste nutty, and are less acidic.”

Visitors to the flagship café see the tiny roastery upon entering the building, often with Jason seated at the console. In the service area, the ceiling is lined with the burlap bags from around the globe that once held beans, and flags from Gonzaga, Eastern Washington, Washington State, and Whitworth universities add a bit of a campus vibe.  

But it’s the community atmosphere created by customers themselves that Jason appreciates most.

“Kent sitting in Arctos every morning sipping his 12-ounce mocha and chatting it up with the baristas and customers is a perfect example why coffee is so amazing.” Jason said. “It helps us get out of bed every morning. It brings us together. It’s comforting. It’s community.”


>> Author’s Choice: The Logan Latte – caramel, brown sugar cinnamon, and Irish cream

>> Drive-up service: Arctos partners with the Joe Coffee app to provide online ordering for a quick pick-up from the counter. Or, you can stay in your car and visit Grind Central, a drive-through coffee stand located near Millwood, 8015 E. Trent Ave.  

>> Credit where credit is due: It’s my husband, Jeff Bunch, who learns the stories of every business he visits, from the owners to the customers. He’s forever a connector; I’m just the one who whittles down the stories into pieces you can savor with a cup of coffee.

Beware of Suspicious Activity

By Kate Vanskike

It’s almost dark and I’m trekking down a riverside path I do not know, anxious to get to the water’s edge at a clearing – a spot close to the horrors that took place 163 years ago as the U.S. army battled to claim the land already inhabited by Native Spokans. In my haste, I leave my phone in my car, and decide I don’t care, although I know I will want it for taking photos. A brown post in the trail through riparian bushes and low-hanging trees has a ripped notice posted from the Sherriff’s office: “Be alert of suspicious activity. Watch out for one another.” I contemplate returning to get my phone, but the full moon is rising and I don’t want to waste time.

The opening in the trees yields to a horseshoe bend in the river. A wide section of dry riverbed is covered by rocks scattered across a cracking earth, thirsty plants dotting the otherwise brown and gray landscape with sage-green accents. Across the river, the other bank is treelined, and beyond that is a steady flow of traffic on the interstate, and semi-trucks pulling in to the weigh station. Above it all, the full moon rises still, over purplish hills, peeking over the trees and dancing on the water.

I can’t properly pronoun Spokane in Salish (“Sp’q’n’i”) but I try. “Spo-kah-NEE,” I whisper at first. Louder, “Spo-kah-NEE.” Then yelling, “Spo-kah-NEE.”

I find myself talking to the spirits of dead Indians, and I’m wishing for some mystical connection, knowing that I simply look and sound like some crazy white woman who needs to go home. I thought about how the Spokans came to this spot to protect their land and way of life, and here they watched the brutal torture and slaughter of their horses by white men, some of whom were repulsed by carrying out the orders. How long must they have heard the cries and moans of suffering as they tried to sleep? A sign saying “Be alert of suspicious activity,” – had it been posted in Salish as a warning of the white man’s ways – couldn’t have prevented what ultimately took place.  

With that realization, I begin the trek away from the water, back through the brush, picking up the pace.

“Watch out for one another,” the poster also said.

Yes, I say to the Spokan spirits, “Watch out for one another.”

This reflection is part of a walking meditation project for a graduate course, “Contemporary Strategies to Counter Hate,” at Gonzaga University. Other walking meditations include:

The River Speaks

Trespassing at Muir Hill

I Know You Broke the River

Finding Chief Garry at an Urban Spring

Top 10 Lessons From Dad

By Kate Vanskike

It’s clear Dad has had a lot to put up with from this gang.

Father’s Day 2021

Like so many dads, my dad taught from the never-published-but-universally-known Fathers Book of Wisdom, which included these standard questions: Does money grow on trees? Were you born in a barn? Are we heating/cooling the outdoors? If so-and-so jumped off a cliff, would you do that, too?

He added his own insights, which my siblings and our kids have grown up hearing. One of our favorites: “It’s all going to the same place.” That’s what you’ll hear if you question why he’s mixing together all the food on his plate.

This year for father’s day, I want to share some other fun lessons from Tom Vanskike, whom we all called Daddy until we were raising kids of our own.

  1. Help them pack.

This is an old-school parenting hack, for you newer parents out there. Your kid threatens to run away? Okay. Help them pack. I said I was running away when I was about 8, and dad got out an ugly old flowered green suitcase for me. That came to mind almost 30 years later when my own kid needed some space, and I followed dad’s example.

2. If you can’t beat ’em, hide from ’em.

When my brother Andy and I were adolescents and stuck together too much during the summer, we fought like cats and dogs, usually over control of the TV station. In rural Missouri in the early 80s, this required going outside and turning the pole that held the antennae, to change the direction it pointed. After a particularly long battle and multiple trips outside to turn the antennae, we just pummeled each other. My brother was shirtless, and when he walked away from me, I raked my fingernails down his bare back from his neck to his hips. Immediately afterward, I needed protection from the oncoming assault and suddenly wondered where Dad was. After several trips through the house, calling for him, I found him: Lying on the floor on the side of his bed where I couldn’t see him from the doorway, his eyes closed, his hands folded over his chest. “Daddy? What are you doing?” “Just waiting for you two to be done,” he replied. It was just spooky enough to silence my brother and I both.

3. Don’t let your brains fall out.

This one may have only been said once, but I’ve never forgotten it. He’s a little skeptical of people being “so open minded that their brains fall out.” I mean, I like being open-minded, but this is still a killer phrase that deserves some points.

4. Question what you really need.

You “need” some cute new shoes, or you “need” a newer, shinier, fancier whatever? When Dad ponders how necessary something isn’t, he says, “I need that like I need another hole in my head.”

5. Take care of what you have.

This is probably demonstrated most with anything that has a motor, be it the vacuum cleaner, appliances, or automobiles. It’s the reason Mom and Dad have had the same washer and dryer over 30 years. Name another guy who has a power-washer adapter for the blade on his riding mower – and uses it after every mow?

6. Never assume tomorrow will come.

Here’s a classic Tom Vanskike phase: “If the Lord wills.” We hear it a lot. Sharing plans for next summer or next week, or tomorrow? You can count on him to add, “If the Lord wills.”

7. Enjoy eye fatigue.

This is not about screen time. Dad’s a sucker for the natural beauty around us – not just the mountains and streams, but rolling farmland and the wide-open plains, too. He and mom enjoy driving through the countryside, getting what he calls “eye fatigue” from all the sights.

8. Ask people’s names.

Before it was common for servers at restaurants to say, “Hi, I’m so-and-so and I’ll be your server today,” Dad would, and still does, ask for their name. And if the place isn’t crazy busy and the server appears to have a moment, he’ll also ask how he can pray for them.

9. Relax.

Anyone who knows Tom Vanskike knows this is his M.O. in life. It does not matter the situation or context. If you’re getting worked up about something that’s clearly beyond your control, his one-word response will be “Relax.”
*Exception: potholes and politics

10. Put others before yourself.

For him, this applies everywhere, every day, all the time.


Thanks for it all, Dad.
Kate

The River Speaks

… But the people hold their tongues

The June evening is warm, the sky clear, the Spokane River calm. Near one of the tributary’s seven dams, I put my modern, carefully engineered craft into the water, its greens and purples jumping off the river’s blues. I, in my matching purple PFD, couldn’t be further from the realities of the indigenous people who lived along this river. Just pointing out the obvious.

As I drift lazily along, watching the sun’s final rays touch the day lilies on the banks, I ponder that. On separate journeys, I’ve visited the markers along this river’s edge that tell a story of Indians and of white settlers, of chiefs and colonels, braves and majors, vying for rights to the land. One glorifies the miners who joined the troops, not far from the graveyard of 800 tortured horses. An installation downtown portrays fishing as a way of life for the Native people, and the suffering they endured after settlers dammed the river. I rest on the water between those two locations, listening for the stories the river could tell.

The Spokane River’s banks have seen bloodshed and destruction. They’ve hosted conversations and heard edicts. They’ve held logs for an old, tired, displaced leader to rest on, weary of the struggle to protect his land, burdened by letting his people down. The water has given life to the flora and fauna, has washed wounds, cleaned hands, cooled burning skin. But those stories could be lost – forgotten as new tales emerge from the tides of summer play, paddlers with coolers, youth jumping from rope swings, boaters hauling skis, lovers watching the sunset reflect on the evening glass.

But more than the fear of the stories being lost of the indigenous people who’ve already passed to the next life, I worry about the silenced stories of the people who still live.

Three times in one week, I looked into the eyes of individuals whose skin is darker than mine, whose ancestors are not colonists, as they shared how often they do not speak, how many times they hesitate, how many times they don’t say clearly what they want because it may provoke a white person. They are South American, Black American, Native American. Each, in their own way, suffers from questioning the validity or the potential repercussions of what they want to say.

There is no monument on the river for these stories. No inscription carved in stone, erected on a hill, marked on a map.

I exit my kayak clumsily. Haul it up the embankment, load it on the car, drive home. And in bed, I sleep fitfully, the stories broiling, wanting to be screamed into reality for all to hear.


This reflection is part of a walking meditation project for a graduate course, “Contemporary Strategies to Counter Hate,” at Gonzaga University. Other walking meditations include:

Beware of Suspicious Activity

Trespassing at Muir Hill

I Know You Broke the River

Finding Chief Garry at an Urban Spring

I Know You Broke the River

In 1995, Spokane commissioned local Native American writer Sherman Alexie to write a poem that would be set in stone as public art. The lyrics of “That Place Where Ghosts of Salmon Jump” wind in a spiral, a labyrinth for the reader. It once was more hidden from high foot traffic and now is amid the more recent installations of Native history above the Spokane Falls along a busy path, part of a plaza called “A Place of Truths.” Here – between Alexie’s haunting poem, the iron fisherpeople crafted by Jeff Ferguson, and photo displays about the destructive force of the Grand Coulee Dam on the Native people’s way of life – here, there is a reckoning. At last, in 2019, roughly 140 years after Colonel George Wright and his troops ravaged all the native communities surrounding Spokane and forced a “treaty” that left the tribes with a fraction of their original land, our citizens and visitors are seeing a move toward a more complete history.

It’s heartening – and disheartening all at once. Now, finally, we gain some perspective. But why has it taken this long to recognize the selfishness and vain ambitions of the whites who tore through the region, leaving skeletons of horses on the riverbanks, burning storehouses of grain, hanging men above the creeks?

I walk the poem’s pathway, stopping to question what is Coyote and what does it represent. I ponder possibilities, wonder how far I am from Alexie’s intentions or the instinctive grasping that his people naturally might have.

More than once, I pause at “he smashed a paw across the river,” and “I know you broke the river because of love.”

I tried to tie it to my research on Jesuits and other would-be “saviors” who came with good hearts perhaps, but also with their own agendas, and knowingly or not, were part of a legacy of pain that the Natives still endure today.

That in itself is a white person’s perspective, isn’t it? Trying to find the answers, wanting to point to solutions.

“White men don’t always love their own mothers so how could they love this river?”

I don’t know, Coyote, I don’t know. But I will walk the labyrinth again, and I will visit the river’s edge to the west and to the east and, and rather than answers, I will simply look for truth.


This reflection is part of a walking meditation project for a graduate course, “Contemporary Strategies to Counter Hate,” at Gonzaga University. Other walking meditations include:

Beware of Suspicious Activity

Trespassing at Muir Hill

Finding Chief Garry at an Urban Spring

The River Speaks

Featured

A Coffee Roaster’s Lifegiving Motto

Story by Kate Vanskike | Portraits by Luke Kenneally

(Image courtesy of Indaba)

With coffee start-up company Indaba, Bobby Enslow had the dream of creating community in the economically challenged West Central neighborhood despite neither experience roasting coffee nor running a business. And yet, he succeeded—achieving awards, receiving recognition, and continuously adding to his list of retail locations. An inspiring tale, but one that’s been told. Indaba’s story runs deeper than that.

The people—and their stories—are what set Bobby apart from other aspiring business leaders.

Meet Mary Kay McCollum, a Navy veteran; Phil Hocking, a computer technician; and Hannah Hicks, a rising business leader. Seemingly on disparate paths, yet sharing the same testimony: Indaba’s slogan—Love people, love coffee—is more than pretty words. Bobby lives by it.

A Path to Healing

“I get really emotional when I talk about it,” says Mary Kay McCollum.

She’s speaking of her experience of sexual assault by a fellow Naval officer, whose abuse back in the ’80s left her terrified and isolated for years. But the statement is also true of recalling the first time she walked into the Broadway Indaba location in 2015.

This was the year McCollum attended a retreat for veterans to tackle their trauma, where she thankfully met a journalist who helped her secure payment for the suffering caused by a member of the military. After more than three decades of silence, the pain of processing was unbelievably hard, compounded by telling her story to secure disability pay for the years she was unable to work. McCollum was suicidal, and when she entered the coffee shop, she told the owner just that.

“When I first talked about PTSD, I was terrified. But Bobby was just so encouraging and supportive,” McCollum says. “His compassion really affected me. He got me on the path to healing. I started writing and talking about it.”

Bobby was instrumental in her progress, she says. Every time she returned to Indaba, he remembered her name and asked how she was doing.

Six years later, McCollum continues her healing through photography, her relationship with Jesus, and encouraging other women to find their voice.

She still finds comfort in good coffee from Spokane roasters, including Indaba. Her favorite is a whole milk latte with no added flavor, so she can savor the coffee.

“’Love people, love coffee’,” she quotes the Indaba motto. “That isn’t just something to hang on the wall. [Bobby] really does it.”

Mary Kay McCollum. Photo by Luke Kennealley

Dignity Restored

As a child, Phillip Hocking had symptoms indicative of autism spectrum disorders that weren’t widely understood at the time, and, without treatment, he suffered from a lack of social skills and friends. After his parents acquired a PC and internet service in 1994, he found a placed he belonged through computer technology networks.

Phillip dropped out of school and pursued tech success, and when he scored, he began whittling away his earnings on drugs and alcohol. He was good at what he did, but as addiction took control; he began smoking meth in the bathroom at work. No longer employable, he became homeless.

For five years, Hocking lived on the streets. A church near the Broadway Indaba coffee shop had been operating a shelter and when it closed in the mornings, Hocking made his way across the street where Bobby was still learning to run his first business and not yet making a profit.

“I basically lived there,” Phillip says. “I was bipolar and having public freak-outs in the shop, and Bobby never asked me to leave.”

Bobby gave him day-old cookies and let him wash dishes to earn his coffee. He even played chess with Phillip, establishing a weekly tradition they maintained until pandemic restrictions.

“Once, I walked in and was crying, and said, ‘Bobby, could you just pray for me, man?’ And he did. And it was really impactful,” Phillip says, “despite my mental health issues and living in active addiction.”

Between that prayer and reading Brene Brown’s “The Power of Vulnerability,” Phillip found an ability to recognize his self-worth. He began helping others, caring for a friend’s family while a member was incarcerated, delivering food and toilet paper to addicts on the street.

In 2015, Phillip stopped his drug use, secured a job, and began paying for his coffee. Today, he oversees tech services at Excelsior Wellness Center.

“Things that once led to HR involvement or loss of employment now aren’t issues. I don’t have to pretend that I don’t have autism or social issues. My behavioral health is no longer a barrier to my success,” Phillip says. “I’m a homeowner, I’m married, I have a kid. And I have a future.”

Phillip is a coffee snob by admission, and proud to say he spends quite a bit of money on coffee. His favorite Indaba drink is the Natatorium—a vanilla caramel latte with cinnamon.

“He’s serious about ‘love people, love coffee,’” Phillip says of Bobby. “He was amid his start-up, and dealing with the pressures of someone like me there was a risk. But he put his Christian principles above a business principle. It’s pretty indicative of who the man is.”

Indaba owner Bobby Enslow (left) with Phillip Hocking. Photo by Luke Kennealley

Creating a Future

Hannah Hicks and her siblings grew up in West Central before the Kendall Yards development was a reality. They were bored highschoolers when Indaba opened in 2009; they hung out at the intriguing new Broadway shop. All the time.

“We would trick Bobby into giving us free lattes,” says Hannah.

But it was no trick. Bobby turned that “free” coffee into a dishwashing job.

One day, Hannah was talking about what to do after school. Bobby had been considering an internship program to teach technical coffee skills to support the growth of specialty roasters in Spokane, and approached Hicks with the opportunity.

“I became Bobby’s first intern, spending twenty hours a week learning from him,” Hannah says. After she gained work experience at another business, Enslow asked her to manage the Broadway location, and then another Indaba shop.

“Bobby was so intentional about giving me opportunity and really trusting me with it. He sent me to barista camp for certifications; he was constantly investing in me,” she says.

Hannah felt she was an active part of Enslow’s dream to create community. She and everyone else on his team were inspired to be family to their regular customers.

Just over three years ago, Hicks moved to New York City, where she had multiple job offers and selected one with a local coffee company where she started off as the manager of its busiest location in Manhattan.

“I don’t think anything could have prepared me like having worked for Bobby,” she says. “He inspired me to lead people in a way that’s focused on them.”

An ambitious young woman in a major metropolitan area, Hannah dreamed big. She applied to Columbia University and was accepted, in part, she says, to Enslow’s impact and recommendation. She became an operations manager, then a senior manager for quality overseeing a business in six cities.

“At every stage, Bobby has supported me,” Hannah says. “Yes, he taught me technical skill, but also about business and leadership. And to think it started with washing dishes.”

Today, residing in the Big Apple and studying sociology at Columbia, Hannah says she lives off simple drip coffee. She’s still enjoying her favorite blends from Indaba, shipped to her regularly from Spokane, where the people-first motto is alive and well.

“It simply blows my mind,” is all Bobby can say. “My little shop in West Central is making a difference.”