Coffee time

It's one of my fondest memories of my growing up years.   

     My parents were major tee-totalers (meaning they didn't care if it was 5 o'clock ANYWHERE).   Daddy was known to enjoy a beer every now and then and mother will often say that she would like a thimble full of wine (which it's been a rare person who knew what in the world she was talking about).

      So obviously, the cocktail hour meant nothing to them. 

     The time of the day did however.  For them it was coffee time.  And every day (in the cold of the winter and the heat of the summer) at around 4:00, they shared a cup of coffee.  This was similar to the coffee they shared the first thing every morning. 

     The operative here is probably that they shared.  And for me - I have found that coffee sometimes brings back warm memories...of my parents (and their coffee time - a time that I often participated in) and of my freshman and sophomore year of college when Ray Parker and I often went to a little café called Mansfield's in Dayton, Tennessee before we went to church on Sunday morning.

     That restaurant had the very best coffee I've ever had. Until last Wednesday when after some routine blood work that required fasting, I went to Famous Amos for breakfast and had coffee that tasted almost most the same.

     At a Caring for the Caregiver Workshop this past weekend I heard one of the speakers say that it's good that the senses bring us to a memory. 

     It wasn't just the sense of smell that did it for me last week.  It was the sense of hearing. I heard a name - "Doug Dickey"

     Doug Dickey was a graduate of the University of Florida who went on to become the coach at Tennessee then at Florida and then became the AD at Tennessee. 

     And my daddy always liked him.

     So when I heard Doug Dickey (I know he lives in this area and actually is a member at Mandarin United Methodist Church - years ago my parents and I went to hear him speak), I thought... 

     Oh wow - I need to tell daddy.  And I promise you I thought that more than once over the next couple of days,

     Some other little irritants popped into my life on Tuesday and Wednesday - and finally in choir when we were singing Fairest Lord Jesus, I started to weep... 

     I finally realized I was weeping because I miss my daddy. 

     One thing is certain about my personality.  It most always takes a long time for me to really get out the emotions that I have inside of me.  Why did it take four and a half years - who knows?  Other than the fact that I've been rather preoccupied with the care of our mother and if I got "upset" that would make her upset - so I just buried my sadness. 

     To be honest, I continue to be a bit sad.  My friend, the Reverend Ronnie Willerer would say that I am unpacking my emotions - kind of like the idea of peeling back the layers of an onion - which brings me to smell - and tears - oh well you know what my grandma Lonnie used to say about tears....