Mom and Dad Loved Coffee – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli
Monday, September 07, 2020
I read a splendid review article Coffee, Caffeine, and Health by Drs. van Dam, Hu and Willett in the July 23rd issue of The New England Journal of Medicine. It immediately brought to mind my mother, who drank so much coffee every day that she was called Coffee Benny. I asked my Dad, who was not far behind in consumption, “Why Coffee Benny?” He mentioned something about a local business of the same name. Of that, I cannot be sure. Of the rivers of coffee, I am sure.
For my parents, coffee was about three things; the coffee pot, the thermos and something social. Their coffee pot was a wobbly metal percolator perched on the stove in perpetuity. “Watch the coffee, Peter. Be sure it does not boil over.” And, so often it did. They ran to the first hiss, often to no avail. A mess of grinds and water doused the gas flame and hopes for a perfect brew. They somehow made the remains drinkable.
They carried sizeable thermos bottles in their lunches. The caffeine kept Dad going as he was up daily at 4:30 AM. For Mom, it contributed to her already hyperactive behavior. She worked in Providence. She started for work running for the bus in the early morning. On her lunch hour, with coffee laden thermos top in one hand, a sandwich in the other and her handbag over her shoulder, she walked several blocks to the city to shop.
GET THE LATEST BREAKING NEWS HERE -- SIGN UP FOR GOLOCAL FREE DAILY EBLASTAnd then there was the social piece as in, “Anna, come down for coffee,” a clarion call from her sister who lived on the first floor. They had been talking all day, but had more to say, over a cup of coffee of course. Mom dropped everything and flew down the stairs.
Or Dad’s “Anna, how’d ya like to go out for coffee an’? In the Studs Lonigan novels, that meant coffee, or more likely booze, and a cigarette. But for my parents, it meant something like coffee and a treat. Rather than a doughnut, their treat was strawberry shortcake and a coffee at the nearby Triangle Diner on a Saturday night.
What would they think of all the coffee shops today? And the prices? And the varieties? Coffee shops in my parents’ day were diners where you sat at a counter and ordered one selection of coffee for ten cents.
Johann Sebastian Bach writes, in his “Coffee Cantata” from the eighteenth century. “Coffee, I have to have coffee.”
To quote the authors of The NEJM article, “Current evidence does not warrant recommending caffeine or coffee intake for disease prevention but suggests that for adults who . . . do not have specific health conditions, moderate consumption of coffee . . . can be part of a healthy lifestyle.”
The average coffee consumption in America is less than two cups per day. Moderate consumption? Not for my parents. Coffee was their ambrosia, a necessary, daily, work and social ritual; the number of cups be dammed.
Dad died at 84, Mom at 93.
Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.” Learn more here.
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