Percolated coffee

So Sunshine asked for a percolator coffeepot for his birthday. I found a vintage one on etsy and it now resides in the pink house we’re staging out of while we get the property in the middle of buttfuck nowhere ready for community. Sunshine was over there hunting and putting up “no trespassing” signs this past weekend with his hunting buddy and Mr. B. Sunshine said that everybody loves the coffee that the percolator makes because it’s better than drip.

I would tend to agree, but I don’t know how much of that is colored by my past. My dad had a percolator, one of those white corning ones with the little blue flowers on it. It was given to me in the 90s, and it got broken in a move. I had kind of lost that little bit of connection with my dad until the first time I used Sunshine’s birthday present.

The sound and smell of that coffee as it percolated took me back in time. Back to a time when things were much simpler. As I sit here thinking about my childhood, I am reminded that my dad would only drink 8 O’Clock coffee. Seriously, that is the only kind of coffee he liked. In an emergency 8 O’Clock coffee shortage, Maxwell House would do, but it was just a half-ass substitute in my dad’s eyes.

It’s funny how much I am my parents’ child, even though I am adopted. I prefer 8 O’Clock coffee to all other brands (most specifically, their hazelnut flavored). I can’t stand Folgers, Community Coffee is disgusting, and Starbucks makes me want to yarf. I got my distaste for clutter and mess from mom, my taste in coffee from dad.

I suppose it is only fitting that the percolator resides in the pink house for now. That percolator, for me, is a symbol of that quieter and simpler time in my life. The rich smell of the coffee that it brews is a manifestation of the reality we are working towards.

The longer we are here, in a tourist mecca in the middle of a wetland of international significance, the more I long for something simpler and quieter. I’m looking forward to the day when I can enjoy that percolated coffee in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, with the smell of sage and cedar and hazelnut coffee filling my lungs.

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