Sunday Scribblings this weeks prompt is "Coffee," a subject dear to my heart!
I LOVE a morning coffee, which my dear son in-law will often bring up to the computer for me on his day off. Never quite knowing how much I appreciate that. For all the coffee in my life that I have served it's very exciting to be on the receiving end.
I've always been a social coffee drinker and rarely start a pot just for myself. Except for that morning brew, which I will set up the night ahead for the kids. I alternate with those Mary Naylor mugs which are unfortunately getting very chipped now!
Not one to frequent Starbucks I do buy the beans from Costco, it's a favorite indulgence, my reward for rarely buying a coffee out! Because of my history of drinking really high quality brew my stomach does not take kindly to inferior blends.
For sixteen years my father worked for a coffee company that a family friend ran. He always brought home special blends of coffee that smelled so scrumptious. Starting from the age of eight, the rule was, first one up started the coffee! We had a pot of coffee brewing from early morning until late at night, with many pots in-between.
At first we perked in on the stove which I have on occasion done when my drip pot has failed me. In later years they had a plug in percolator! Mom had a beauty salon in our home growing up. I was expected to make sure a fresh pot of coffee was on, serve her customers and wash the mugs! Mom didn't hesitate to offer me coffee from the age of twelve on. I drank it on occasion and always loved it.
One day about twelve years ago I bought a bag of rice, either at costco or my regular supermarket, I can't recall. When I got it home I noticed it had different writing on the back. I was flabbergasted to realize that it was the name and address of the coffee company my dad worked at for sixteen years from the Nineteen- fifties when I was born, until early Nineteen-seventy!
The business had been started by my godfathers dad, and was named Johnson Brothers coffee and lasted two generations, until it was sold. I'm named after my godmother, his first wife, who was also my mothers best friend. Her daughter Kym, who I refer to as my cousin, is the granddaughter of the man who started the company. The business was long defunct when I bought this bag of rice. I have no idea whether they were old burlap sacks laying around somewhere. For Kym and I it's a message from beyond with both of our dads and her grandfather gone. A reminder of the good times we had as children. Our dads, coffee beans, camping, and the bond that binds us to this day!