The love of a good cup of coffee is steeped into my family’s DNA as much as hair loss for men, red fingernail polish for women and bad feet for everyone.
I have several coffee pots but this one here is estimated to be around 75 years old and is my new favorite. My now-deceased, super-sweet mother in law procured this elegant percolator at some yard sale. Although we weren’t there, we suspect it was because she thought it was simply pretty to have around the house. That would have been her. It had no cord but we brought it to our house at some point.
Recently I found a cord and this vintage coffee-cooker started brewing the beautiful brew in a minute. Much less time than later models like the one I have from the 1970’s that I grew up mesmerized by. Also less time than another glass one I have now from the 1980’s.
As it perked I sat and watched. And thought about how many cups of comfort that this thing must have poured in its life.
Perhaps Billie Holiday sang in the background as it made coffee for a family gathered around the radio in the living room to hear about the war. They drank coffee together and listened for news that their loved one fighting overseas was maybe safe.
On July 24, 1969, maybe it perked up some goodness while the family watched the crew of Apollo 11 take one giant leap for mankind.
Or it could have provided that necessary burst of energy for a tired mother who had been up all night with a colicky baby. Or it was perked and poured into a thermos for a trucker headed out the door for a long haul load to places he’s never been; in the snow. But still the load had to get there and it was his job to make sure it was delivered.
In today’s busy world we still sup this brown elixir of life. Some, and I still struggle with this part, even like it cold. What in tarnation? We pour out cold coffee and make new. Cold coffee makes about as much sense to me as heating up a Coke in a bottle to drink with a bowl of popcorn.
We have no problem paying good hard-earned money for a good cup of coffee. My family has always had that high on a priority list. Although my frugal mom would perk a pot in the morning then microwave the rest of it all day long. But she also saved tin foil.
I love my quick brew Keurig. But there is something special about a good ole fashioned perked cup of coffee. The slow brewing, the patience required isn’t bad because you know the finished product is going to be awesome. The sound of the perking is comforting. The slow bubble up that builds these quick eruptions of coffee in a clear top. It’s all very soothing. The steam coming off is fun.
The whole process is relaxing.
So today, as we live out this recent threat to our world, let’s remember to be patient like we’re waiting on good coffee. Let’s remember to love. Let’s remember to not politicize everything. Let’s be concerned about our neighbor whether next door or across the sea that doesn’t speak our language or look like us. Let’s remember we are all on this one big beautiful globe; together.
As I’m sure this coffee pot has assisted in many crises in its shiny life, get yourself a good perked cup of coffee. The process of the perk and the amazingness of the coffee afterward in a perfect mug will help relieve your anxiety about our situation now.
And if you can’t find a percolator to brew you a cup of Joe, then come see me. I’ll perk us a pot because I have several. And we’ll sit in the sunroom, drink steamy hot coffee, listen to old jazz on vinyl and stare at my new Bonsai tree while it rains from heavy gray clouds outside. And we’ll laugh about something.
Plus, I have toilet paper.
That’s the best that I can tell about it,