Most who know me now are well aware I am a huge, die-hard coffee addict. I suppose one could have worse vices. My romance addiction is older and probably greater, but a good shot of caffeine has helped me survive a lot of long, cold or otherwise taxing days.
My Mom was a coffeeholic too. Dad would drink a cup most mornings but never seemed to be terribly hooked on the stuff. Although she mostly used instant when I was growing up, Mom did have coffee pots at times, first the old stove-top percolators and later some electric ones. I am sure Charlie and I gave her several of the latter over the years. I can still see her, often the first one up until I became the early-rising stock feeder and chore girl. She'd be sitting quietly with a cup of coffee before breakfast and often breaking a graham cracker into strips and dipping them in the cup. History repeats for I now do the same, but that is a later development.
I am not sure when I first tasted the brew. For years when I was a kid, I was told coffee was grown up stuff and would stunt my growth or have other bad effects. But then when we were outdoors a lot in bad weather such as those wood cutting expeditions and long hours of livestock care, Mom started to add a wee smidgen of coffee to the hot cocoa we kids had to warm up while she and dad had coffee or more rarely tea. By the time I was in my late teens and Charlie was edging into the double digit ages, it became half and half. We liked it! Of course baby Alex was still either not born or very small so he did not get it but it was part of our coming-of-age bonding.
By the time I was really into my cowboy girl days, I'd fix my own and it got to be more coffee than cocoa, kind of a mocha I guess. Then when I would have headaches, a frequent issue, or severe monthly cramps but still had work to do, a couple of aspirin and a cup of strong coffee became my go to remedy to keep the pain to a tolerable level I could work through. It still was not a daily habit but I had acquired a taste for the stuff although I did usually sweeten it with some cocoa mix or even sugar at times.
Then I began to associate with working cowboys, truck drivers and construction workers on a semi-regular basis and there were darn few of them that did not drink coffee. Aspiring to be one of the guys, I did too. And I remember several times when I ended up in my first serious love's home-on-the-road, usually very distraught about some current crises such as a sick animal or one of Dad's increasingly difficult spells, Dusty's sovereign remedy was a cup of strong coffee. He seemed always to have a pot made. Mine was served in the Monday cup; a big white mug with the one word enameled on it in dark green. That's when I learned to drink it straight, unpolluted with any whitener or sweetener! I soon learned to like the slightly bitter flavor and knew the caffeine kicked in quickest that way.
Off to college and my early work years I imbibed on occasion but not regularly or at least not daily, again mostly instant--which is really nasty once you get used to the brewed! Then I met my future husband who was a former Marine and a cop at that time. Both of those classes are pretty-much coffee fueled so I soon got on the band wagon. When we had only been married a short time, brother Charlie had a huge dust-up with our Dad and came to stay with us. By then he was a big coffee drinker too so I got a large pot and kept it going just about all the time.
We moved to Colorado and got active in a volunteer fire department out at Falcon, east of Colorado Springs, where we lived. Then Jim's job investigating accidents involving Air Force vehicles often called him out at night. By then, my middle stepson was in his teens and started to be a coffee person too. I got a 32 cup cafe or party sized machine and kept it running 24/7. We ran through at least one pot a day and sometimes more. Jim and I also got a steel thermos, about a half gallon size, which stood on the headboard of our bed every night. If there was a call-out he took it along; if not we had a cup in bed every morning!
That habit stuck through several years in California, back to Arizona and even through my retirement. Finally in 2004 after Jim had passed away, I let it lapse, but I still had a 12 cup electric machine in the kitchen. It shut off after an hour or so but I could take a cup whenever I wanted one and 'nuke' it to the right temperature in the microwave.
When Charlie and I joined forces back in 2009 and I moved up to Colorado Springs for a couple of years, I learned how to use the Mr Coffee type machine he had. We had a loose rule that whoever got the last cup or left less than a full cup in the carafe would make a new pot. Again the microwave served to reheat. That routine came along with us when we moved down to New Mexico in 2011 and continues to this day. We have not gone to the K-Cup style yet and probably won't. Given the extent of our habit it would be pretty expensive! We use two batches in the 12 cup carafe most days.
And in the manner of history repeats itself, I am often the first one up. I let dogs out and back in if it is wet or cold while I heat a cup of coffee in the microwave before I settle in my recliner at the front room's big window to watch the day begin. That quiet time is almost essential and I can understand why Mom did it so much, most of her adult/married life anyway. You can wake up, plan your day and watch the magic brush of sunrise paint the sky.
After a near-daily walk with my dogs, I have another cup when we get back and on these cool, gray or wet days, a further cup now and then keeps me from seeking solace in something sweet and caloric. I still take it black mostly and cannot abide sweetening--tastes like cough syrup to me now--but I do use a flavored creamer on occasion, usually hazelnut. By the fourth or fifth cup, that eases the jolt to my stomach by the acid in the brew. And I do dip graham strips often, too, but not early in the day.
So, as vices go, I could have worse! It has not wrecked my health yet. I currently use only one prescription med, my dry eye drops, and my blood pressure, lab reports and such are generally pretty good for one of my age. It might even be healthy, who knows? Darn, no pictures. Should I do a selfie with cup in hand? No, I hate selfies!! So it's an essay without illustrations. It is what it is.
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