Woke up this morning to the obnoxious beeps of a garbage truck in reverse that turned out to be emanating from a new but defective coffee maker that almost always drips some of my favorite dark roast outside of the coffee pot* so it sizzles on the warming plate before making its way to the countertop in a hot, brown puddle.
Coffee is best consumed in its purest form. Straight up, neat, like a good Irish whiskey. If you must add something, add a good memory that comes with a mug.A six-ounce diner mug given to you by a waiter at the original Hamburg Inn in Iowa City adds a special flavor all its own, as bold as the stuff the guy brewed back then at pretty much any hour.Whether or not he had the authority to give it away just because you admired its heft and its simple, utilitarian honesty, you didn’t have to be told more than once to go ahead and take it.
Maybe you’re lucky enough to have another, bigger diner mug that your brother gave you years ago. It reminds you of his thoughtfulness as you sip a dark, dark roast from Kenya.
Another gift brings to mind your daughter-in-law months before the family ties became official. It shows she recognizes that humans reached a new height of evolution when they began to pedal about on two wheels.
And then there’s the one from your daughter that proclaims her Dad as “Man, Myth, Legend.”
So what if there might be lots of other dads who have the same mug? You know you’re the real one if your daughter says it is so.