What Building Community Really Looks Like

Feb 27

When some people get married they inherit part of a business, part of a home, or half of a rare and unique collection. I inherited an always-there bar seat at Varga Bar. Varga Bar is my husband John’s go-to bar in this city. He stopped by the first time because of its proximity to his apartment, but stuck around for the good company and good conversation. By the time we went on our first date in 2019, he had been a regular for almost 6 years. I was impressed he found a bar that felt so much like “Cheers” and it very quickly became a place where our check would identify our seat at the bar as “J+C” - sometimes accompanied by numerous exclamation points depending on the level of celebration. Very quickly this place began to feel like home for me as well.

We spent the second half of our first date there talking late into the evening before I walked him home. Two years later we stopped by on our engagement photoshoot. Six months later we had our post-wedding day brunch there. I even rented out the place for my 35th birthday jeopardy extravaganza (inspired by Varga Bar’s own jeopardy nights). And there were many, many nights in between. Sometime multiple times a week. Sometimes it was because I was craving the buffalo cauliflower or the single patty Varga burger or the Mexican hot chocolate (which I specifically requested for the last few years to be put back on the menu), but most of the time it was just because it was nice to be at a place where everyone knew your name. You are never expected to be anything or anyone you’re not when you’re there. It was easy.

All of the staff embodied this Cheers-like go-with-the-flow vibe. I always look forward to talking with Dana about books and gardening, CT about his latest adventure or truly ridiculous jeopardy categories, and honestly just listening to whatever was going to come out of Patrick’s mouth next is a treat. The quick conversations with Mason, John, Jonathan, and Kevin, also always felt like home. (Mason, who is the chef, even made homemade funfetti cupcakes for that 35th birthday party of mine.) But there was one person always rallying these folks together, the bar owner, Rich Colli.

He worked as a bartender for many years, but became the official owner in 2020. A truly crummy time, in my opinion, to become the owner of a bar, but Rich never let that get him down. In fact, what I always saw from him was the exact opposite. Somehow even on a bad day, he had a way of uplifting you and bringing people together. And that was my favorite thing about Rich.

As somebody who wrote about community building for a long time, Rich is someone who put his money where his mouth was. And his time, and his resources, and his energy. The vision this man had for building community around him, his understanding that each person had something special to give, and his ability to work through mundane logistical details to put together an event were all magical. As somebody who was a resident assistant in college, this man truly figured out how to be one for his entire life, bringing people along every step of the way.

In fairness, I don’t know how many of the following ideas were purely Rich’s and how many were ideas that Rich just completely got behind 100% once presented to him, but just a few for the count were -

Opening early on Saturdays to host art marts for local artists because he knew that utilizing any and all space to help small businesses in the city was a good idea.
Hosting beer tastings both virtually during the pandemic and in real life afterwards to feature local and traveling brewery owners and share the cool things they were doing, always considering turning it into a podcast.
Hanging stockings around the entire bar every holiday season where regulars would write their names on the stocking and year-after-year they would be hung. (My stocking was lost this year, but I’m not going to hold that against anyone…) And also setting up a train that circled the bar to help deliver shots and your check to you.
Not only coordinating 100+ seats every year to a weeknight Phillies game for his community, but also hosting the tailgate that came beforehand where he (and the Varga Bar team and his parents) would grill burgers and dogs and share in general merriment and snacks.
Printing “Rich Loves Me” shirts with a different theme every year and giving them out to people. What beautiful audacity to assume that I want to wear that shirt. (Note: I absolutely do want to wear that shirt.)
Being a driving force behind Philly Beer Week where he theatrically and passionately helped to delivery the beer week trophy from one location to the next to kick off the festivities.
Adding Sunday Suppers to the menu each week that were always something cozy and homey and that reminded you of what it was like to eat with the family around the table to kick off the week.

And the list goes on. From jeopardy nights to true crime nights to Oscars nights to murder mystery nights to the annual block party. Always something to do, somewhere to go, and people to see.

The unique characteristic that Rich had that really defined his ability to bring people together was the way he always found a way to connect with anyone and make them feel seen, important, and respected. Rich and I truly didn’t have that much in common when it came to hobbies (you will note that nearly every article released mentions his intense love of sports), but there was always something to connect about. Whether it was an event going on in the city, thoughts on a Broadway show (thank you, Rich’s musical theater sister for preparing him for this!), or a new adventure one of us was on. There was always something to chat about as I sat at the bar. And as a woman in my mid-thirties I appreciate knowing there’s always a bar I can go to, alone even, and always feel not only just safe, but also seen.

But it wasn’t just me. It was how he made my friend who came the Phillies Varga Bar tailgate who wore a Marlin’s shirt feel like she still had a place there (she was born in Florida, she didn’t choose that life), it was the way he and the whole staff made my closest friends and family feel welcome the morning after our wedding, and how everyone knew that a quick “heard” meant he was going to make your dream of the moment come true. Every time I would take someone new to the bar, I loved being able to say “and this is Rich” - who I truly never even felt cool enough to know, let alone have acquired a forever seat as his bar (of course when available).

And now he’s gone. And there’s truly a gaping whole in the community that he has left. I’m curious and interested to see how it patches itself. I assume it will be mended via the Japanese art of kintsugi, where you glue the broken pieces of something back together and powder the seams with gold. He’s built something too big and too real to fade away. While this sorts itself out and I figure out what my part in all of it is, I really just find myself hoping that tomorrow at his celebration of life that there will be hundreds of people there all wearing “Rich Loves Me” shirts in the streets. We love you too.

And if you’re looking for an actionable take away from all of this. Take more pictures of your day-to-day and the people you love. The mundane moments, the sights you see every day, the people you see every day. You don’t know how long they’re going to be there. And when the day is done it’s probably best if there’s more photos of a person you love on your phone than a distance shot of him of just his back with him behind the bar serving your nearest and dearest friends after your wedding day. But then again, that’s where I always expected him to be. Rest easy, Rich. You will be very, very missed.

Top row (left to right): photo by Justin Johnson, selfie by me, photo by Chloe Dawson
Bottom row (left to right): photo by me, photo by Chloe Dawson, photo by Chloe Dawson