Last Saturday we found ourselves whiling away the afternoon at a coffee shop on the square in Sonoma. Between corralling our big boy and comforting the little one, my husband and I reminisced about our first introductions to coffee. For me, the love of the drink started when my great-grandma, Nanny, offered it to me when I was five. Now, before you gasp, you need to know that my ‘kindergarten coffee’ was a lot of milk and about a drip of coffee.
On the other hand, Nanny’s was just like herself – strong and no nonsense. She drank it steaming hot in a cream-colored chipped-up cup. The only school she knew was the old school; she was 74 when I was born and lived to be a remarkable 101.
As I was finishing my story, Tim looked at me and said, “Yeah, she would have slapped you for spending $4.00 on a cup of coffee,” in reference to the ‘jo in our hands. I laughed because I knew he was right. That’s when it crossed my mind that we could all do a lot worse than to live a good long life and be fondly remembered over a fine cup of coffee.