Life Is Too Short for Stale Coffee!
{Read in 4 Minutes} Prior to the days of Starbucks, Tim Hortons, and Keurig, I remember reaching for the coffee pot to begin my morning routine, aware that there was still some left from the day before. I would always pause for a moment, reminded of a time I was fearful of throwing it out because of how wasteful it would be. A quick “minute plus” of the microwave and there it was — burnt, stale and reheated. I would make it my first “terrible taste” of a brand new day while I waited to reward myself with a second cup of fresh brew.
Why did I do that?
Being of the depression generation, my parents voiced their distaste of waste because of “the starving children in China,” which rang in my ears. Like every other child who heard this mantra, I would suggest that they pack up my meal and ship it off to those who would appreciate it more than I would. Nevertheless, I would eat it rather than face the consequences of sitting at the table for hours until I was hungry enough to finish, or tired enough to face plant in it.
Years later, following in my parent’s mantra, I would throw nothing away, saving every last morsel of leftovers in unlabeled Tupperware containers stuffed in the back of the refrigerator with no intention of eating. Yet I knew I couldn’t throw it away until it looked like a science experiment.
If the world were to end later that day, would this last cup of stale coffee satisfy me, enrich me, or bring me joy?
Once I came to terms with the “drink the old coffee first” memories, I realized how conditioned we are to accept our parent’s teachings of shame and guilt and to not ask questions that begin with “why?” Hours at the kitchen table with nothing to do but look at my half-eaten dinner and think about what I could be doing instead taught me to give in. How often do most of us make mindless decisions or accept others’ teachings because it was easier to give in rather than decide for ourselves and risk punishment from others?
I remember my mother once telling my sister and me to keep secret the fact that she and my dad bought a radio to put in their car because people might think they were extravagant. She was also the person who told me I was wasting valuable resources on getting pedicures when I was 6 months pregnant with twins and could no longer bend over or see my own feet!.
Why didn’t I treat myself to the best when I could?
As women, we are often programmed to not ask for what we want, and be happy for what we have. Although some of that may be true, why shouldn’t we ask for what we want? My mother believed that was for other people, or for “someday.” But as Yoda would say “Someday there is not; only today!” Rabbi Hillel says, “If not you, who?”
As I reached for the pot, the voices of my past softly call out to not waste. I dumped it down the drain anyway, filled the pot with cold clean water, and brewed fresh Italian roast, my favorite…because if not for me, then who?