The first documented use of coffee as a drink occurred in Yemen in the 15th century. Sufi monks there made it to help them stay awake during late-night worship. Since then, the act of drinking coffee has come to be worshiped so to speak and no more so than in Sturgeon Township, in rural Cook, where I grew up.

My parents were world-class coffee drinkers, as were all the adults in the neighborhood. It was everywhere – picnics, fishing outings, on the hay wagon, weddings, meetings, anniversaries, and events of any kind. Old-timers sipped hot coffee from flat saucers expertly balanced in their hands. I don’t know why, but it was impressive. If you stopped at Jack Bort’s Garage in downtown Sturgeon, free coffee was always available as you exchanged pleasantries and discussed world events. Eventually, Jack got around to fixing your power saw or whatever. But like so many things, my relationship with coffee started at home.

On a typical Saturday, I’d stumble out of bed to find Mom, Dad, and my sister at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Breakfast was cooking. I could take coffee or leave it, but it wasn’t unusual to have a cup. After discussing activities and neighborhood gossip, we’d have breakfast, followed by a short cup of coffee with sweets, and then get on with the day. Dad would head for the garage to fix while Mom did chores, and my sister did homework. She was always doing homework and as a result, my sister ended up smart. I was always watching Bullwinkle and Bugs Bunny. Unlike other cartoons, they’d often take on politics, people and trends with satire. As a result, I ended up sarcastic. I’m glad some of their stuff rubbed off on me though otherwise, it would be difficult remaining blindly happy over Tesla Inc. paying less Federal tax on $2.3 billion in profits in 2024 ($0 actually) than someone working full time at minimum wage ($315.50) who can’t use their purchase of a jet plane or a family trip to the Caribbean as a business expense. I need more coffee.

Anyway, at about ten o’clock, Dad came in for the morning coffee break. Lunchtime included coffee, then afternoon coffee two hours later, followed by coffee after supper with something sweet. It’s a good thing we drank decaffeinated coffee and brushed our teeth twice a day; otherwise, we would’ve all been mostly toothless and high as kites much of the time.

I still drink coffee, but unlike my “take it or leave it” attitude as a kid, I now need it but only in the morning. After all, without coffee, I could choke on my caramel roll, or brownie, or cookie, or one of those little pink wafers with crème filling that grandma used to always have on the kitchen table. Yes, I like-want-need something sweet with my coffee in the morning. It reboots my mouth. It is an answer to nighttime dreams that may include cupcakes. It’s why my diet plans tend to fail so miserably. Regardless, morning coffee time is no place for apples, lettuce, or meat. If stranded on a tropical island and no coconut bars or pineapple crisp is available, cheese will suffice as a substitute but a poor one.

When someone tells me they don’t drink coffee, it’s hard to believe considering where I came from. But that’s alright. To each their own. I couldn’t choke down glorified rice when in first grade at Alango Elementary and still can’t. That seems to upset lovers of glorified rice; however, I find no small irony in the fact that Alango School has closed since then, and I am still here. In addition, most science points to the fact that moderate coffee drinking can be beneficial to brain function, heart health, and serves as something of an antioxidant. You can’t say that about glorified rice.

Leo is retired and lives in rural Cook with his wife, Lindy. He is the author of three books, She Won’t Mow the Daisies, The Cabin Experience, and Life Over Easy. Leo can be contacted by email at llwilenius@gmail.com.