2 November 2017

Coffee.  I am grateful for coffee.  Just plain old coffee, nothing fancy.  Dark roast, a splash of cream, in a cup first thing in the morning.  Before talking, before seeing, before thinking, coffee.

Thanksgiving Pilgrim Maxwell House

It has been this way since before my mind coalesced and memory began.

When I was a wee babe, literally swaddled in blankets not yet a year old, I was given coffee.  Now in all fairness, it was mostly milk with a bit of sugar, but it was REAL CAFFENATED coffee.  Why?  Because I was a colicky baby.  A very colicky baby.  And because my maternal grandmother, Maw Maw, said so.

I do not know if this lore is widespread, but in my neck of the woods, generations of colicky babes have been reared on coffee, because apparently it works to curb the fussiness.  Of course, back when I was a child, my parents and certainly my grandparents didn’t know about the negative effects of caffeine on calcium and vitamin D, but I’m pretty sure they would’ve sacrificed my future bone health anyhow for a few minutes of peace and quiet.  I know I would have.  Forsooth, there is no guarantee that a child will make it to a bone-fracturing age anyway, and, truth be told,  it is even less likely that a child will make it to adulthood if their beleaguered parents are unable to find respite from the wailing.  You know it’s the truth, whether you want to admit it or not.

The end result of my coffee imbibing, was that I was an addict by the time I was old enough to toddle.  Here I am, just a few years young, furiously pouting because my coffee bottle wasn’t on the coffee table when I ambled out of bed that morning.

Pouting for my coffee

My addiction all started with a baby bottle of  Maxwell House and now over 40 years later, requires at least 2 pots and a Starbucks latte a day to keep it at bay.  I’m not proud of it, but I am thankful for it. Besides there are “worse-er” habits!

Coffee wakes me up, it picks me up, it props me up!  It makes every day possible.  It helps keep both my children and my husband alive.  It brings my family together.  It cheers, it comforts, it consoles, it clarifies.  It’s good EVERY SINGLE DAY, from the very first sip of the morning to the very last drop  in the very last cup.

Number 2:  Coffee



4 thoughts on “2 November 2017

  1. Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist says:

    Love that old Maxwell House poster. I also enjoyed the history of your coffee imbibing. I don’t think I started as young as you (and have no idea about the truth of your Mawmaws remedy but definitely agree that you have a greater chance of survival if your parents do get a break from incessant screaming) but I too have suffered coffee addiction which I am currently trying to break ( actually curb).


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