A
Cup Of Joe Says A Lot About Us
by
James Snyder
This
week I came face-to-face with a genuine dilemma. I had several
meetings across town and for some reason I miscalculated
and ended up with a 2-1/2 hour gap between meetings. I hate
to waste time, but if I drove back to my office, I would
simply have to return to my meeting later and with the cost
of gas these days, one cannot be too cautious.
You know gas is getting high when it costs more to fill
up the car than the car is actually worth. The most valuable
thing in my car is in my gas tank.
I remedied the situation by stopping in a small coffee
shop for cup of Joe. As far as I'm concerned, there is no
bad time to have a cup of coffee, in spite of the price.
I ordered my coffee and when the waitress brought it to
me, I began to think about coffee. Why did God give us coffee?
Then my mind went back to my grandfather, whose great gift
to me was a love of coffee. Nobody loved coffee more. I
remember one of his favorite quotes, "You can always
tell a man by the coffee drinks."
Anathema to my grandfather was the idea of instant coffee.
No man, in his opinion, would ever drink anything of the
kind. "If a man would drink instant coffee," my
grandfather perked, "there's no telling what else he
would do. Never trust a man who drinks instant coffee.
"Making coffee was an art form to my grandfather.
There was a right way and a wrong way to make coffee, and
he always insisted on the right way. Of course, the right
way was the way he made coffee.
In grandfather's kitchen was an old wood-burning cook stove.
My grandmother cooked meals on this ancient apparatus for
more than 50 years. Sure, she eventually got an electric
stove but it was more for show than anything else.
On this old-fashioned stove, my grandfather brewed his
famous mud broth. He never allowed my grandmother to make
the brew; it was his job, which he took seriously.
Once for his birthday we all chipped in and bought him
an electric coffee pot. I had never seen my grandfather
so mad. When he saw what it was he would not even take it
out of the box.
He had strong ideas about coffee and how it should be brewed
and woe be to the person who contradicted his ideas.
Grandfather always kept a fire in the old wood cook stove
and on the back of the stove he kept his coffee pot, a large
2-gallon pot — one of those old-fashioned percolators
long since gone out of style. The coffee was always on,
and no matter when you stopped in to see him, he always
had "fresh" coffee brewing.
When I say "fresh" I need to explain. Actually,
the coffee was only fresh on Sunday. On Saturday night,
he routinely emptied the coffee pot and prepared fresh coffee
for Sunday morning.
He had an old coffee grinder and ground the coffee beans
on Saturday night. He put some other things in the coffee,
I have never figured out what. One thing I know he put in
was a crushed eggshell. What it did to his coffee I have
no idea, but grandfather was sure it was an important ingredient.
The freshly-ground coffee beans were put in, the pot filled
with fresh water and set on the back of the stove to slowly
perk. This coffee would last the entire week. The coffee
was so strong on Sunday that if it didn't wake you in the
morning, you were dead.
In fact, cousin Ernie died on a Sunday afternoon, so my
grandfather tells the story, and one sip of his black coffee
roused him and he lived seven more years, which was unfortunate
for grandfather, as he had to support him.
Before retiring each evening my grandfather took care of
his coffee. He would freshly grind a few coffee beans, sprinkle
it on top of the old coffee grounds, and then add a newly
crushed eggshell. Then he would refill the coffee pot with
water.
His coffee percolated 24/7 and by Saturday it was so strong
you needed a half-cup of sugar just to drink one cup. It
was thick enough to use as syrup on your pancakes, but so
strong, it dissolved your pancakes before you could eat
them.
My grandmother once tried washing the coffee pot. When
my grandfather saw her, he became furious, "Never wash
that coffee pot," he spouted, "you'll ruin its
character and a coffee pot needs a lot of character to make
good coffee."
When my grandfather died, I looked at his old black coffee
pot and discovered two things. One, the original color was
blue. And two, although it was originally a 2-gallon pot,
it only could take three quarts of water. The "character,"
so important to my grandfather, had built up so much over
the years its capacity was diminished.
In pondering my grandfather, I thought about my Heavenly
Father and His gifts. The Bible puts it this way; "Every
good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh
down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness,
neither shadow of turning." (James 1:17 KJV.)
I really don't know why God gave us coffee but I do know
God's character is of such a nature that it never diminishes
His ability to bless me each day.
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