In a booth at Shari’s sophomore year, a cheerleader confessed to me that she had an eating disorder. To put a finer point on it, I suppose, she barfed up her Oreo milkshake right there in the parking lot of the Garden Home Shari’s on the way back to her car. “Don’t tell anyone,” she said. I didn’t, until right now. Someone must have, though, because soon her parents pulled her off the cheer squad and put her in private school, and I never saw her again.

It’s a surreal, complicated moment from a deep Southwest Portland girlhood, and it happened at Shari’s. Because that’s where all kinds of life happened. My formative memory happens to be an unexpected confession (and demonstration) of bulimia, but for some people it’s post-church pancakes with grandma, sobering up after a night at the bars, or weeknight family dinners when the refrigerator was empty.

Ever since all remaining Oregon Shari’s locations closed abruptly Oct. 20, personal stories from the regional, hexagon-shaped family restaurants have poured out in conversations and on social media. Shari’s was founded in 1978 in Hermiston and, at its peak, had 95 locations across six states. Before the closure, the chain was down to 17 Oregon cafes. The restaurant was known for its pie, hexagonal layout, video lottery machines, and being open 24 hours a day.

I didn’t yet know about the cooler all-ages places I could go in the early 2000s, like the Southeast music venue Meow Meow or The Roxy, the 24-hour diner downtown. I was just a basic bitch in an Abercrombie & Fitch tank top who wanted a taste of independence with her loaded fries. So even if it wasn’t great—even if I did find an eyelash once in my Asian chicken salad that I could never quite forget—Shari’s was there for us. And now it is not. Here are a few collected stories:

Firefighters’ Study Circle

Lee Etten, Shari’s at Northeast 122nd Avenue & Halsey Street, 2003

I realized right away that I was not academically solid for the Portland Fire & Rescue training academy. It was really intense back in the day. They were asking very specific questions about fire stuff almost word for word from our reading materials.

There were a couple of other people in my boat—of a 15-recruit class, there were five of us who routinely met at the Northeast 122nd and Halsey location of Shari’s to study. We met at 4:30 am because training academy class started at 6:30.

We sat in that Shari’s at least once a week for the four-month academy. The wait staff kept our coffees full. We would rapid-fire questions off each other. I learned to study better. I had to figure out my flash cards. I think because of that process and because of that convenient location—our training academy is on 122nd and Sandy, so literally right down the street—that’s how I got through fire training, really.

I just hit my 21st year with Portland Fire & Rescue. I’m a captain, but I’m about to take the battalion chief’s exam. I get more studying done now that I have my own home office. But it was fun to be 24 at Shari’s.

Thanksgiving Disaster Averted

Dana Hepper, Shari’s at 11030 SE Oak St., Milwaukie, 1997 or 2001

We ate Thanksgiving dinner there one year when my flaky parents thought they could shop for Thanksgiving dinner on Thanksgiving morning, only to realize all the stores were closed. They must have gone to three stores until they finally saw the Shari’s from the parking lot of the Albertson’s.

I mean, they had turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and all the fixings you could hope for in a Thanksgiving meal, including pumpkin pie. They were ready for us. No reservation required.

My brother shockingly has no recollection of this event, which either means he was away in the Army, or that this level of lack of planning was so normal in our household as to not be notable to him.

Makeup, Sweatpants and a Duffel Bag of Ones

Kat Salas, Shari’s at Southwest 185th Avenue and Farmington Road, Beaverton, 2015

I think a lot of sex workers and strippers in Portland have had that experience of, either after a really good night or really hard night, going to Shari’s and sharing a meal.

I have so many memories of getting off work from a club downtown that closed at 6 in the morning. Me and a large group of folks would go to Shari’s because it was on the way to Beaverton where we lived. We’d be in our full makeup with long ponytails, all in, like, sweats and pajamas with duffel bags full of ones. We’d be sitting at a booth and being, like, now’s the time to just process the night. It became a ritual.

When you had a really shitty night or people were really horrible, someone was like, “Let’s stop at Shari’s on the way back,” and it’s very much a transition place back into your life. It was a place of support, especially because at that time I was under 21, so there were not a lot of places to go.

There were times where I didn’t really want to go home. And I do have a very specific memory of one time I was in a really bad domestic violence situation and I knew that when I got home everything was going to break loose. And I remember spending 12 hours there ordering stuff so I could stay somewhere indoors overnight so that I could wait out what was going to happen when I got home.

It’s a good reminder that things don’t have to be openly about providing a social service or a shelter or whatever. They can just be there, and be consistent. And I think that’s what it was for a lot of people. And the food is a lot better than Elmer’s. I’m sad to see it go. Oh, Shari’s.