Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Special Treat – Debra Glidewell

December 16, 2006

Minard’s Coffee

Debra Glidewell

Mr and Mrs Mitchner were not married. She was in her late 80's, widowed and he was her developmentally slow son. Around Christmas every year my grandmother would take them baked goods and invite me along for the visit. I was blissfully unaware that at that tender age I was their real Christmas present. For the few hours that we sat and visited youth and health entered that dark and shabby cluttered house. Minard, the son, was always overjoyed to see us. He made coffee with the care of a chef. Of course he repeatedly stepped back from the kitchen into the living room where his mother lay in a hospital bed to ask "How many scoops?" Mrs.  Mitchner patiently told gave the answer every time.

In retrospect I think Minard could not count.  My grandmother was a coffee drinker but quite plainly sipped very slowly during the visits. Every year I begged to have a cup like the adults and every year I had to have a glass of chocolate milk instead. Finally at around the age of ten I was granted passage into the ritual. On the drive over my grandmother tried to prepare me.

"You realise Minard is a bit slow." Nanny glanced my direction. She seemed to weigh my response. I nodded solemnly. "He is very proud that he learned to make coffee, Debbie. Do you understand?" Again I nodded with all the seriousness and ardor of one who is taking a sacred oath. "It is important that he has something to be proud about. Do you still want a cup of this coffee?"

"I do."  

Minard became very excited when I was unexpectedly pronounced old enough for the special treat of a cup of coffee. I think he had to ask how many scoops even more times than usual on that visit. Eventually a steaming cup of semi liquid was set before me and Minard hovered nearby awaiting the verdict. He nearly danced for joy when I nodded my approval and finished the entire cup.

A number of years passed and still my only inclusion into the adult world of coffee sharing remained that single cup of Christmas at Mr. and Mrs. Mitchner's. Finally returning home one Christmas I teasingly asked my grandmother whether I had yet earned the right for one cup of her coffee when we reached home. She looked at me proudly and laughed joyously. Indeed I had!

Debra Glidewell

Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Special Treat – Debra Glidewell

December 16, 2006

Minard’s Coffee

Debra Glidewell

Mr and Mrs Mitchner were not married. She was in her late 80's, widowed and he was her developmentally slow son. Around Christmas every year my grandmother would take them baked goods and invite me along for the visit. I was blissfully unaware that at that tender age I was their real Christmas present. For the few hours that we sat and visited youth and health entered that dark and shabby cluttered house. Minard, the son, was always overjoyed to see us. He made coffee with the care of a chef. Of course he repeatedly stepped back from the kitchen into the living room where his mother lay in a hospital bed to ask "How many scoops?" Mrs.  Mitchner patiently told gave the answer every time.

In retrospect I think Minard could not count.  My grandmother was a coffee drinker but quite plainly sipped very slowly during the visits. Every year I begged to have a cup like the adults and every year I had to have a glass of chocolate milk instead. Finally at around the age of ten I was granted passage into the ritual. On the drive over my grandmother tried to prepare me.

"You realise Minard is a bit slow." Nanny glanced my direction. She seemed to weigh my response. I nodded solemnly. "He is very proud that he learned to make coffee, Debbie. Do you understand?" Again I nodded with all the seriousness and ardor of one who is taking a sacred oath. "It is important that he has something to be proud about. Do you still want a cup of this coffee?"

"I do."  

Minard became very excited when I was unexpectedly pronounced old enough for the special treat of a cup of coffee. I think he had to ask how many scoops even more times than usual on that visit. Eventually a steaming cup of semi liquid was set before me and Minard hovered nearby awaiting the verdict. He nearly danced for joy when I nodded my approval and finished the entire cup.

A number of years passed and still my only inclusion into the adult world of coffee sharing remained that single cup of Christmas at Mr. and Mrs. Mitchner's. Finally returning home one Christmas I teasingly asked my grandmother whether I had yet earned the right for one cup of her coffee when we reached home. She looked at me proudly and laughed joyously. Indeed I had!

Debra Glidewell

dcglidewell@aol.com