Giving Belated Praise to My Black Coffee
When Things in This Life
and the Universe are all aligned, a certain peace exists. A peace that no one can hold, tame, much less lord over. It's a peace that knows no race, color, nationality, background, or work ethic. This peace is quiet. This peace is always lurking somewhere obscure. But know while you walk on two legs, "this" peace can only draw near is when you, my friend, have done your best, proving, your best by giving your best. And "this" silent, sturdy, unchanging peace sits in a friendly smile with someone drinking a cup of coffee.
As far as
I'm concerned, this is my only direct commentary about my close friend, Coffee. Black, hot, fresh or days-old, my friendship with Coffee is constant. My friendship with Coffee is also consistent. From the start of my feeble life to the end of my measured time, Coffee was present. Coffee and my grandparents as well as my parents were very close. No other religion(s) would or could teach "their" kind of love. It was never tried. I suppose that is the way certain things are to be.
I vividly recall my first cup of coffee. My dad dipped three teaspoons of sugar in the black liquid and at age six, it tasted quite good. But maybe it was the coffee or maybe it was just me growing up, I don't care to talk about it in length, but at age nine, I asked my dad to pour me a cup of Black Coffee. Dad smiled that smile of approval that only a dad and a son can share or know. And we didn't say another word after that milestone, me drinking Black Coffee with my dad. We just sat at the kitchen table drinking our coffee, but don't mistake our lips for not moving as we were not talking, for we talked in volumes. Dad would take a sip of his coffee and smile and I would do the same. "That" language is not taught in major institutes of learning--but at the humble homes of people who know how to work, provide, and give to others. The only other place "that" kind of language was taught has seen it's day. The day of the Hobo. These guys drank stolen and left-over whiskey found in bottles laid by a rusty railroad. And brewed just enough coffee at their "jungle" so good friends, all the same, could sit, drink coffee and be free men.
Coffee doesn't judge, condemn, or hold grudges toward men common or proud. But make no mistake. Coffee knows when to go and when to stay. Don't ask me how or why. I sometimes wonder why God, The Creator, placed me in this vast universe that fits easily into the palm of His hand. Be it far from me to boast of myself in what men would say is good or bad. I know that coffee makes for a great friendship, when treated with mutual respect.
Everyone in this life is different. "Difference" is one of the Absolute Rules of the Universe. Notice the flakes of dust, snowflakes, and roses. No one flake, rose petal or raindrop is alike. But bring those innumerable flakes, petals, and raindrops and you have One living, vital thing. Same way with Humanity. Can you imagine for a moment what our world would be like "if" every person of adult age would join one with the other looking past all differences in race, ethic values, tongues and social status just how peaceful "we" would have it? What has this item have to do with Coffee? Plenty. Not one coffee bean from Columbia is alike. And not one grain of coffee is alike. But but those grains of coffee with large sums and you have one delicious drink.
There are people who, for some reason, sit in judgment for those (like me) for drinking coffee saying it is bad for a human. Point: God, our Creator did NOT and will NOT create anything that is BAD. We humans with our various differences in ideologies and social decrees have almost driven the humble man or woman who loves to rise early, drink their coffee and live in peace. Very simple to understand.
And as I grew older, I began my Life Habit, as it were, to drink coffee prior to going to work, at work, and when I returned from work. You see, coffee and me get along fine with each other. And never demands anything tough for me to accomplish. But what coffee does do is sit and listen to me talk to (myself) or my wife who FYI, drinks an "occasional" drink that smells like coffee, but with all of the cream and things she puts on top of it, I just never know what she is drinking.
Sitting on the front (or back) porch with a cup of coffee is more of a habit for me. I said that when I was young and my health allowed me to get about and work long hours. But at break time, lunch or dinner, my choice has always been coffee. It just can't be beat. I've tried manufactured bottled water to soothe my taste for coffee but who was I kidding? I knew when those sips of water went down my throat that it was coffee that I loved. So I stopped pleasing the crowd and just worked at pleasing three in my life: God, Pam, (my wife) and me. And these are also acquainted with coffee.
Allow me to wax philosophic. I suppose that I, along with those in my age bracket--who went through Regular School together and split like lightning had hit an Oak tree in a summer storm and went to their calling(s)--doctors, lawyers, CPAs, military officers, musicians, writers, and some just checked out. I am still saddened by their empty places where once were my good friends. What is the common threat here? Most of these people learned to identify with Coffee. Why not? In the late 70s and 80s, when Portland was really pushing Starbucks, Earth Shoes and Hugging Trees, Coffee was smack dab in the middle of things, buck-o. (Nod to Ron Howard, "Richie Cunningham," "Happy Days," and his catch-phrase).
As long as "this" stage of life grows, and decreases with age or lack of commerce, Coffee will survive. I mean, Juan Val Dez is no fool. Neither is "Penny," his prize burrow. And if these two hard-workers picking and hauling coffee beans to their big corporation, then I have a fighting chance to be a part of "that" evolved society.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Jan. 28, 2018
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© 2018 Kenneth Avery