a truly wonderful gift.

Black tea with sugar.

Palm Harbor, Florida

I spent Easter weekend in Florida with my uncle Charlie. He’s an incredibly misunderstood man, or at least, I misunderstood him for most of my life. For forty years, he was a mechanic, and for many of those years he had a three-pack-a-day smoking habit. (He quit 10 years ago.) He had big scary dogs (they were actually pretty harmless, but I was scared nonetheless) and his kids were older and too cool for me.

Five years ago, Charlie’s wife left him. He was crushed. But instead of closing himself off and shutting down, he opened himself up. He started therapy, got to know himself, and started talking about his feelings. He called to check in on me, he gave me advice on relationships- on giving my heart freely and willingly to others. He frequently spent time with my father, who was grieving the loss of my mother four years ago. Charlie has proven himself to be one of the most gentle, caring, and warm people I know.

The morning after I arrived in Florida, he made me a cup of tea and some delicious French toast, and we got to talking about the family. He told me stories about growing up with my Pop-Pop, who died when I was three, though his mind was taken by Alzheimer’s before I was born. I learned that my Pop-pop was the child of a well-respected and well-connected Russian immigrant. His family was often spotted at the opera or the ballet. My grandfather always wore a tie- even when camping (I saw the pictures!)- and owned a camera store. His many nephews came to him for advice on fashionable dress, manners, decorum. One of those cousins would grow up to become one of the world’s pre-eminent urologists! (Who knew?)

There were stories about my grandmother, a woman I never felt close to though she was alive until I was 17. A new story about matzo-pancakes, which she made for her four children and served with cinnamon, sugar, sour cream, and syrup. (Or, as my Dad apparently used to say before he could pronounce the letter “s,” “yinnamon, yugar, your cream, and yrup.”) I learned that my grandmother volunteered at a local hospital for 40 years, and that she and her five siblings were raised by a woman named “Granny” after their mother (who had moved her family to New York City from Panama, where her husband worked on the Canal) died at 33.

We moved to the sunporch with our tea, and spent the next two hours looking through Charlie’s photo albums. I’d never seen photos of my Pop-pop as a young man. I had no idea what my grandmother looked like on her wedding day. Who knew my big brother looked so much like my Dad’s side of the family? After 24 years, I was finally able to piece together some of the stories I’d heard over the years, and to appreciate these people I’d never known. It was a truly wonderful gift.

Story # 2

Melanie Schwarz

Venti Starbucks coffee, cream and sugar

Dulles Airport, Northern Virginia
_____________________________

Running, just keep running,
she said C17 is right off the tram! Not off the tram, down 3 really long hallways, up an escalator!
Have to get there! They can't leave without us.... Then I saw her, my sister in terminal C17

I yelled "Too Late?"
She yelled "Too Late!"

Damnit! We missed our flight.
I want to cry, I got no sleep, I have been up since 4am.
The flight was supposed to leave at 6!
Its 5:50!

"I understand maam however policy says that we complete boarding 10 mins before departure time. The flight has already taxied."
I could punch her.
But I wont.
That's assault.

I looked at my sister as my dad and brother finally make it to the terminal.
She could punch them
she might.

Then I saw it, my coffee.
She texted me 20 mins ago saying she was at the terminal and would get me a cup.
She handed it to me and I said "thank you" still trying to catch my breath.
Taking my first sip just trying to wet my throat. Still hot

"Mind if I asked what happened" my sister asked as we waited in line to re-book our flight.
We both turned to our dad and brother.
They were both still packing at 4:30 when we needed to be at the airport at 4:45

After finding out we had another 9 hours until our flight took off we started walking back to the van to take us home to wait.
I joked that now we had time for 'a fun family event!"
Michelle suggested we go to the shooting range
not received well.

We piled back into the van with all of our luggage and headed for dads house. Sipping on my coffee I heard dad say "while I have you all together..." which stimulated a simultanious groan out of his three children. This would undoubtedly be labor intensive, or a full lecture on some topic none of us wanted to discuss at 6 am.
We turned into the grave yard... Oh goody

Dad turned 60 this year. Which realistically is the new 40, but I think everyone looks at thier own mortality at some point and it is a natural and responsible thing to do.

He started showing us different spots around the grave yard where he would like to be buried. Telling us instructions about what he would like to have done and his wishes for his eternal nap.

We all fell out of the van for a short walk to the top of a little hill overlooking herndon highschool and the church my brother, sister and I were confirmed in. The sun had just started peeking above the highschool and created a beautiful picture . I used to see sunrises a lot in nursing school but it has definitely been a while :o)
I took a sip of pretty cold coffee and contemplated my morning. The flight we were now taking at 3:45 pm was flying us to Kansas city for a 4 hour drive into Hays Kansas. My grandfather was turning 91 the next day and we were going to celebrate.

I was prepared to go out there and say good bye in case it was the last time I saw my grandfather. Standing in the graveyard reminded me that we need to live like we may not see tomorrow. I finished my coffee and told my family that even though standing in a graveyard at 6am was really fun, I just had a full cup if coffee and I had to poop.

I saw a sign on that trip on my cousins bar that said something like "life is not meant to be carefully preserved and placed into a grave, it should slide in sideways yelling 'holy shit what a ride!'"

How it Began

Story #1

Brad Snyder

Burundian Coffee, black with one scoop of sugar

Kigutu, Burundi, East Africa

(originally from Baltimore, MD, USA)

There’s nothing quite like sitting on a mountain in East Africa drinking a cup of smooth Burundian coffee while watching the sun rise over the mountain tops. I have this experience every morning but today was different. Usually I have my coffee with the other members of the team then whisk away to the clinic and work, but today I felt like I needed some time to chill out. We all ate together then I stayed behind to have one cup of coffee in peace. The handle was in my right hand, the body of the mug in my left, I raised it to my nose and took a deep breath in and let it all out. I was relaxed. The sun was getting higher in the sky and my coffee was getting lower in the cup. I was sitting in the stillness as life was happening all around me and I was happy to be an observer. A good friend came out of the house and we laughed and chatted in my disheveled Kirundi and her broken English. She scooted over to the clinic and I stayed seated, breathing. People continually walked pass my stillness, we exchanged greetings and they moved on. It felt like a slowed down version of when you’re waiting for the metro in D.C. and the trains are speeding past you, or class just let out and the mobs of people are flooding around you. I sipped while two team members arrived and had an argument at the end of the table. Part of me wanted to jump in but I was far too content with my stillness to get involved. The fight ceased, they went their separate ways and again I was left sitting with the sun, mountains, and my coffee (which was now getting down to the condensed, dark consistency with coffee grind fragments.) I breathe in the untainted air, it’s quite peaceful. My solitude is again interrupted as a herd of goats begin to graze in the morning sun. Birds are flying overheard calling to each other and singing sweet songs. I give my cup a little swirl to mix up the syrupy consistency and have a revelation. During this one cup of coffee I was able to smile with a good friend, hear the tune of African music, laugh, feel the sun’s gentle rays bask over my body, observe an argument (and not be involved), give my goat friends a morning greeting, all while breathing in warm, clean air and looking over the mountains. Amazing!

Time stood still for me as I became an ambient fixture with my cup of coffee dictating when I could get up. I was there, in it for the long haul until I could see the bottom of my cup. I could try and speed up time by taking bigger gulps or more frequent sips but no matter what I did, the cup still determined when I was able to walk away. It’s a nice feeling to have something remind me to be in the moment. My mind and breath were free to do as they wished but leaving or rushing? Forget about it. It was at this point when I decided that I want to know about other’s experiences during their cup.

I want to hear people’s stories, ideas, sorrow, joy, angst, sass, wit, cynicism, peace, enlightenment. I want to hear everything and I want to share it with others. I am convinced that this can be a tool to prove or remind us how similar we all are. Our human interconnectedness will become apparent as we read about the all too familiar situations that our fellow beverage drinkers encounter. Hopefully we can learn and grow by these stories. Maybe we will feel validated or normalized, frustrated or ridiculous. The possibilities are endless as we are dealing with humanity.

So ya, this project/idea, whatever you want to call it is just getting started and will evolve into whatever it’s supposed to be. Your stories will help mold and guide it wherever it should go. So next time you sit down with your independent coffee house mug, tea from home, Starbucks frapuccino, gas station coffee, red wine, cheap beer, diet coke, lemonade, or glass of Baltimore City water I ask that you live in the moment then share that snippet of your wonderfully, perfect life with us.

To staying hydrating and living!

*Brad