12/12/2025
CW.
In the small hours of Thanksgiving morning, the organs were removed from my mentor and heart father.
He had suffered a cardiac event on the 16th, followed by a fall. It took two days for his roommates and band mates to call the people on the first page of his planner. When I received the call, I hanged a sign on the door of Mason’s on Main, and drove directly to Riverbend in Eugene.
As I came back from Eugene to pick up my daughter for Thanksgiving, my weekend worker gave notice, I got an expulsion letter from OCF, I was told that I couldn’t get a longer lease on the restaurant, and my mentor was declared dead by neurological examination.
My father figure left no will, DNR, advanced directive, or next of kin. Reluctantly, I accepted the role of next of kin, and with other beautiful friends that he put in each other’s path, we arranged for Garde to have his only expressed wishes be honored. On December 1, he was buried at Breitenbush, having gifted his pristine kidney, lungs, and liver on Thanksgiving day.
This is all to say that it’s time.
Mason’s on Main has always been an orphan. A dream that was birthed in the stupor and delirium of 2023, just barely emerging out of covid. I saw such potential in the beloved 345 East Main location. Though it was darkened, I intuitively saw the light. Though it was condemnable, I saw the support that was possible. Though it was filthy, I saw the shine. The numbers added up. If we could be open for 12-18 hours per day with minimum $50/hour revenue (a low bar), we could break even. I saw possibility of taking it from dark to light and “red” to “black” in months. And growth in a hurry. My concept seemed solid for Ashland: affordable, clean, delicious food downtown, served in a streamlined model with low wait times. With a meaty business plan in hand, everyone bought what I was selling. That the storied location had proven itself. And that with a shaky economy, people would want affordable options. We signed the lease and forged ahead.
However, before the ink was dry on the lease, I was served with papers for custody of my daughter. Never one to give up a righteous cause without a fight, I fought that losing battle. In the first year of the restaurant, self-represented, against a bulldog of a lawyer, I went from joint custody to “non-custodial parent.” I howled to the harvest moon.
If you know me, you know WHY I fought that battle. I love that little girl more than life itself. Not to mention I’m a damn fine father. I graduated pre-med with honors and had raised her with little help, 1/2 time through her first four years. Title IV-D of the social security act, as another father told me, is the Legal System — NOT the Justice System. What was designed to help children of true deadbeat fathers, has, no surprise, been corrupted into another tool to be used against America and to fleece the population.
But I digress. In that time of facing the music that told of my precious daughter being ripped from me, I lost both of my business partners and discovered just how neglected Geppetto’s had been. One partner dealing with a death of a child and the cancer diagnosis of a loved one. The other partner simply biting off more than they could chew now that is was just the two of us. I was standing alone, no partners, a beaten man. And the restaurant was an absolute mountain of grime, burnt bulbs and broken fixtures. Speaking of biting off more than one could chew!
The plan never involved me, a single father with MS, being the manager, chef, MC, marketer, HR manager, art curator, etc. But plans change, I suppose. I tried to wear all the hats, single, with hired and mostly unreliable help. Now, do understand. I’m not avoiding responsibility. I was trying to do all the jobs and I did all of them at about 40%. So I understand how most of the workers who I hired were, at one point or another, fed up with my mismanagement. I was doing a lot of half-ass jobs. It was all I could muster to keep the workers from smoking bongs in the backroom during open hours or from stealing time, equipment, or food. By the way, not all of them were difficult employees. Though some were literal predators, others have absolute hearts of gold. I look forward to seeing all of them move up in their lives, even the ones who are currently reaping what they’ve sown.
I discovered what it’s like hiring in the service industry in 2025. People working Thursday to buy Friday’s high. I can’t blame people for wanting to escape their situations. And plenty do. But the more people who get out of the industry, the more concentrated the hiring pool gets with desperate, downtrodden comrades. This is true in the front, and especially, the back of house. We who know the industry know this is an unspoken truth. I’ll hopefully not get drawn and quartered for this. Or carved up and made into a sous vide.
Regardless, it’s not their fault that MoM’s, as I endearingly referred to it, went down. It, like the custody battle, was doomed from the start. Both were quixotic. And both were worth doing. Because it’s not about winning. It’s about saying I tried. That I didn’t give up just because it was hard. That I fought for my daughter and for a dream. The parallels aren’t identical. And maybe I should have given up earlier. Lord knows I wouldn’t be about to file for bankruptcy if I had. But what good is money if you can’t look your daughter in the eye and say “I love you, and I did the best I could.”
So, thank you Ashland. Your support means the world to me. Your openness, feedback, encouragement, and love were life giving. I can’t wait to see what comes next for the iconic location. Please support whatever comes next for 345 East Main. At least give them a try and let that light that we lit stay lit.
I also look forward to what comes next for me, having met so many wonderful souls out there. Don’t be a stranger. And though this story is at times heart-wrenching, all is not lost. God is good and I have one more Garde-ian angel looking out for me.
I leave you with my favorite fable:
https://youtu.be/sWd6fNVZ20o?si=vkDTMUAbIjuuUv9h
Love, your neighbor and friend,
Mason
PS. what’s up next for me:
- Building community through gifting, story telling, dance, and music.
- Landing a “medium-high” income heart-aligned job that works with my body’s retardation/disability. Potentially following the stars into a substitute teaching role in math, science, culinary, or music.
- Repurposing a simple invention that will solve the worst kitchen and sink problems the world over.
- Maybe a move to GP or further.
- Always looking for the right alliance to produce Chica Pica Hot Sauce at a scale worthy of her.
- Spending every exhausting weekend with my girl I can, riding bikes and hitting sets of monkey bars in Southern Oregon.
- Hopefully some writing.
🌬️ 🔥 💕
