I was two years old when I had my first taste of coffee. The same goes for my brother.
However, we didn’t know this until we were much older. Somehow, somewhere, I started drinking coffee. We thought it had always been that way. I had been drinking it since before I can remember. Mom and Dad had even asked, “Who got you guys started drinking coffee? How did that happen?”
But one evening, we were up at my grandparent’s house, in their living room, watching a home movie from 1992. Grandpa had a brand new camcorder. It was a modern marvel for home video in its day. It was the size of a twelve-pack of Coca-Cola. Its side opened up on a hinge, and that opening is where the videographer inserted a full-size VHS tape. We’re talking limited storage, no uploading to the cloud.
In that video, Grandpa and Grandma were babysitting me one wintry afternoon. The main subject of the video was the snowfall through the back window. As he panned around, he caught my grandmother sitting at the table, putting the steaming coffee cup to my mouth and allowing me to drink to my heart’s content.
Mom exclaimed, “Aha! Delores!”
Delores looked over, bewildered. She wasn’t sure why her daughter-in-law was yelling.
“You’re the reason our boys drink coffee!”
We rewound the tape. There she was — starting a lifelong obsession with roasted beans.
I’ve lost count of all the people who have told me that drinking coffee will stunt my growth. I grew to be six feet eight inches tall.
So to that, I always reply, “Thank God!”
to the coffee connoisseurs,
– Caleb
caneymountainblog.com 