Dad was never functional before his morning coffee. He usually headed down to the “Goof” for his fix. He’d complain bitterly that it was horrible coffee, but that didn’t stop him from drinking it daily. When he didn’t go to the goof for his fix, he’d stand beside the percolator like a zombie waiting long enough that he could interrupt it and pour his first cup of the day.
Dad, who survived on coffee and cigarettes while seated long hours at the glass blowing torch must have known you could have too much of a good thing. So, when he’d finished mainlining coffee for the day, he switch to Inka brand “coffee”, a roasted grain beverage. I didn’t know the brand was still in business, but blundered upon it today at the local grocery store:
I was looking to buy such a roasted grain “coffee” mix today anyways, as I’m now old enough that coffee after 7:30 pm equates to a high probability of a night of insomnia. Finding dad’s old brand triggered a surprising number of memories, and provided the perfect way to cross off that shopping list item!