11.5.2021 – make ready, lose count

make ready, lose count
of scoops small step of faith
great start but no notes

My day starts the night before around 10:30pm.

At 10:30pm, I get the coffee maker set up to make coffee the next morning.

I am a coffee nut but a strict orthodox coffee nut.

I will enjoy a Starbucks or any other boutique coffee or latte or cafe au lait.

I will put up with the strange arrogance of vente, grande and whatever else I have to say when I want to order a small coffee with milk.

I will go so far as to say that the best cup of coffee I ever ordered was the Ho Chi Minh City at Cafe Amico in Suwanee, Georgia.

Best cup of store bought coffee anyway.

When you get right down to it, it all tastes the same after the third sip.

I have used the kuerig.

I think we have owned several.

But, dog gone it, I want a pot of coffee.

For a real orthodox coffee nut, the test is not the specialty coffees but the daily coffee in the pot at home.

I know I have quoted this before but in the book of short stories that led to the play and movie, “Life with Father,” Clarence Day describes a breakfast with his Dad.

A breakfast with bad coffee.

Mr. Day, Jr., writes:

At breakfast, Father would put down his coffee-cup in disgust and roar:

“Slops! Damn it, slops!

Does she call this confounded mess coffee?

Isn’t there a damned soul in Westchester County who knows how to make coffee but me?

I swear to God I can’t even imagine how she concocts such atrocities.

I come down to this room hungry every morning, and she tries to fill me with slops!

Take it away, I tell you!” he would bellow to the waitress.

“Take this accursed mess away!”

And while she and Delia were frantically hurrying to make a fresh pot, he would savagely devour his omelet and bacon, and declare that his breakfast was ruined.

When I first read this story years and years ago I felt I understood just what Clarence Day, Sr., meant.

If my morning coffee isn’t ‘right’ (no need for the word just here, not ‘just right’ just ‘right’) then the rest of the day is in jeopardy if not gone.

I like to say that God created the heavens and the stars and so separated the Day from the Night so there would be morning.

I like to say that God created morning so there would be coffee.

The Bible says we are created in God’s image.

Therefore it can be said that God must have a nose.

If God has a nose, God can smell.

Note the many verses in the Bible that describe sacrifices making a pleasing aroma.

Grilled lamb or steak with clouds of savory smoke drifting up to Heaven.

If there are pleasing aroma’s in Heaven then they must have coffee there.

I told you I was orthodox in my beliefs.

My day starts then when I get the coffee maker set up the night before.

For such a important part of my day tomorrow I can be cavalier about how I go about preparing the coffee maker.

It would make sense that I have a precise regimen that I follow with exactitude but, being me, I don’t.

The brand of coffee is not carved in stone.

I switch from time to time.

Sometimes just to change.

Sometimes based on price.

Sometimes based on availablity.

Right now I am using Café Bustelo.

I don’t worry about the water.

It doesn’t bother me that it will sit all night.

I guess it’s going to sit all night somewhere.

Here in the low country of South Carolina there are water towers so the city water delivery system IS based on gravity.

But the area is dotted with GRAVITY ASSIST PUMPSTATIONS at ground level to make sure water can make it up and into the multi story apartment buildings.

Then the filter goes in place.

Then I measure out the coffee.

I am making eight cups.

I will have 2 or 3 in the morning following the ‘endless cup’ method of continually warming up a cup of coffee.

My wife will have cup.

And then later that day I will make up a large iced cafe au lait with the leftovers.

There was a time when it was thought I should limit myself to a single cup of coffee.

So I did.

After I went out and bought the biggest cafe au lait mug I could find.

It was like carrying around a punch bowl.

To make eight cups of coffee takes 8 level scoops of Cafe Bustelo.

This is where the fun happens.

With everything that is riding on this simple act I cannot tell how often I lose count.

I hear a noise.

I think of a noise.

I think of something.

I look back at the TV.

Something happens and I am standing there with a scoop in one hand, can of coffee in the other, staring into the coffee maker and wondering … 5 … 7… 3?

I look at the coffee already in the filter and there is really no help to determine mass versus measurement from the size of the pile of coffee.

Then the descision.

Dump it out and start over which is the safe way.

The sane way.

Or roll the dice.

Add another measure or two of coffee and hope for the best.

Even though this has immense bearing on how my day will go this is the usual route that I choose.

I say to myself ‘Well, it is either going to be too strong or too weak, but there it is.”

I close up the coffee maker.

Put the coffee away.

I go to bed wondering, what will I pour out in the morning.

As I type this I think BOY AM I DUMB.

So here is what bothers me.

Once in awhile I make the worst miscalculation and the coffee is weak,

This is the worst.

Slops!

Slops! Damn it, slops!

And it can’t be fixed.

Sometimes the coffee is way to strong.

I stay with the idea that the coffee is strong enough if you dropped a dime into coffee and you can’t see the dime at the bottom of your cup.

Why you would drop a dime into your coffee, well, I digress.

My brother Tim told me that with my coffee, the dime dissolves.

Then there are those mornings.

Those mornings when I know the night before, I messed up and guessed how much coffee to put in.

And the coffee that morning is not too weak, it is not too strong.

The coffee is right.

Just right.

When that happens, my day starts with this thought.

THIS IS JUST RIGHT, BUT HOW MUCH COFFEE DID I USE?

Oh gosh.

11.4.2021 – wavy surf song sounds

wavy surf song sounds
floppy floappy sowop swish
sparkling fizz sizzles

I like how many of the words in this haiku were thrown out by spell check.

Listen to the sound of waves.

What words do you here?

I had to make mine up as the words didn’t exist.

On the one, I am sure most readers or wave listeners would agree with me that the words just aren’t there.

On the other, time, tide and waves have been around since day 1 on the schedule and we haven’t come up with words yet?

There is an old Jewish fable or midrash I think there were called when God and Satan are arguing in the Garden of Eden about how smart Adam might be.

God says to prove it, he will ask Adam if he can identify all these new animals.

God calls up Adam and says to him, “Adam, what do think this rabbit is?”

And Adam says, “That is a rabbit.”

Another version has an Angel whispering the animal names to Adam.

My point is if we, the human race, got some help describing animals, why not with waves?

Where are the words?

What are the words?

I certainly hear the sounds.

Part of a series based on an afternoon spent at the beach on Hilton Head Island.

I wanted to see if I would be ‘inspired’ by what I saw, by what I heard, by what I smelled, by what I tasted, what I felt emotionally and what I felt tactilely.

Some turned out okay.

Some were too forced.

Some were just bad.

Some did involve some or all of those feelings.

As far as it goes, I guess I was inspired by by what I saw, by what I heard, by what I smelled, by what I tasted, what I felt emotionally and what I felt tactilely.

Click here for more Haiku in the BEACH category —

11.3.2021 – wrote her name upon

wrote her name upon
the strand, but came the waves and
washed it away

Adapted from the sonnet, Amoretti LXXV, by Edmund Spenser.

This is one of several haiku I got from this sonnet.

Edmund Spenser (1553-1559), according to wikipedia, was an English poet best known for The Faerie Queene, an epic poem and fantastical allegory celebrating the Tudor dynasty and Elizabeth I. He is recognized as one of the premier craftsmen of nascent Modern English verse and is often considered one of the greatest poets in the English language.

In 1595, Spenser published Amoretti and Epithalamion. This volume contains eighty-eight sonnets commemorating his courtship of Elizabeth Boyle. In Amoretti, Spenser uses subtle humour and parody while praising his beloved, reworking Petrarchism in his treatment of longing for a woman.

Spenser used a distinctive verse form, called the Spenserian stanza. The stanza’s main meter is iambic pentameter with a final line in iambic hexameter (having six feet or stresses, known as an Alexandrine), and the rhyme scheme is ababbcbcc. He also used his own rhyme scheme for the sonnet. In a Spenserian sonnet, the last line of every quatrain is linked with the first line of the next one, yielding the rhyme scheme ababbcbccdcdee.

But you knew that.

Here is the full sonnet.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
‘Vain man,’ said she, ‘that dost in vain assay,
A mortal thing so to immortalize;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likewise.’
‘Not so,’ (quod I); ‘let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the heavens write your glorious name:
Where whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.

11.2.2021 – stopped before I

stopped before I
said I was Charlotte Bronte
in previous life

Readers of this ‘blog’ should be aware the on Saturday I enjoy a silly feature of the Guardian Newspaper titled, ‘Blind Date.’

Two unknowns agree to meet for a free meal at a London restaurant then they have to fill out a questionnaire on the date.

It is simple harmless fun for the most part.

I enjoyed this one very much.

The question asked was: What do you think he made of you?

Her response was: “He may think I’m not right in the head. I should’ve stopped before I said I was Charlotte Brontë in a previous life. In fact, I should’ve stopped after two drinks.

For his part, to the question, ‘Describe Laurine in three words‘, he responded, ‘Kind, introspective and hilarious.

While he did answer, ‘Childhood memories; the best film adaptation of Emma (Clueless); her belief that she’s the reincarnation of Charlotte Brontë; how she once laid a rose on Keats’s grave and shed a tear (sorry, Laurine, it was just too good)‘ to “What did you talk about?

To his credit, when asked, ‘Would you meet again?‘ he said, “Who wouldn’t? She’s a delight.

11.1.2021- and yet nothing is

and yet nothing is
done blindly, hastily, or
indifferently

I am getting into the history of the low country where I now find myself living.

The low country is the southern point of the State of South Carolina where the elevation above sea level is 20 feet or less, hence the name, low country.

You don’t have to be here very long to learn that the greatest natural disaster to hit the area was the Sea Islands Hurricane of 1893.

I had never heard about.

Not too many people outside of the area have heard about it.

That was also one of the major problems that the surviving residents of the hurricane experienced.

No one knew about it.

Few people outside of the area were aware of the impact of the storm in this part of the country.

Savannah was the point of landfall and Savannah had some damage but Savannah is somewhat inland.

The barrier or Sea Islands were almost wiped off the map.

Modern interpretation of data shows that the storm surge along the South Carolina-Georgia Coast may have been as high as 30 feet.

And there was little in the way of communication with the area to get the word out.

Most of what historical information there is are estimates.

There were an estimated 30,000 people living on the Sea Islands.

After the Civil War, this area was also over 90% black and former slaves.

Over 2,000 people may have died, most by drowning.

That makes the Sea Islands Hurricane the 4th most deadly hurricane in recorded US history.

For the most part, the surviving 28,000 people were left homeless.

That is 100% folks.

On top of no shelter there was no food, no supplies and all fresh water sources of inland lakes, ponds and springs had been filled with salt water.

And few people knew.

There were no cell phones, no CNN, no power boats, no bridges, no national guard, no communication of any kind.

Word did not get for days.

Relief did not reach the area for weeks

Real relief did not reach the area for months.

Took time to get the word out.

When national relief came it came from the 10 year old American Red Cross.

The American Red Cross was set up in 1881 by Clarissa Harlowe Barton.

Better known just Clara Barton, she worked to establish the Red Cross as a non-profit humanitarian organization that provided emergency assistance, disaster relief, and disaster preparedness education in the United States. (wikipedia)

Ms. Barton first entered the national stage during the Civil War where she was active in providing clothing, food, and supplies for the sick and wounded soldiers.

Now she was boss of the Red Cross and she took her new organization down to the low country.

How in the world did this happen?

Turns out the during the Civil War years, Ms. Barton had stationed herself on Hilton Head for a while.

Her brother David had alerted her to the fact that the Union Army was building up forces on Hilton Head of an attack on the Charleston, SC area.

Some of those efforts are portrayed in the movie, Glory.

David Barton himself was stationed here.

From April, 1863 to January, 1864, Ms. Barton was here.

Ms. Barton was involved with sick and wounded solders as well as educating and working with the black islanders who lived here.

Something about this area gets into your blood.

When Ms. Barton heard of the devastation, she moved her office to Beaufort, SC and set up to provide relief in the way of food and medicine the best they could.

The Red Cross stayed here and handed out food and other supplies to survivors.

Folks had heard about this new American Red Cross and weren’t quite sure what is was or what it could do.

The Atlanta Newspapers sent reporters to cover the story.

Back then, Newspaper folks knew that the story was more than names, dates and facts and that the story might require something more than just a reporter.

So Joel Chandler Harris was sent down to write the story.

This is not the place to get into a Joel Chandler Harris discussion but suffice to say, the feller could write.

His efforts were published in two parts in Scribner’s Magazine.

Scribner’s Magazine in the 1890’s was Time, Newsweek, Life and the New Yorker all rolled into one.

The stories were “The Devastation” published in February, 1894 (5 months after the storm) and “The Relief.” published in March, 1894.

At the end of the first story, ‘The Devastation’, Mr. Harris wrote:

I went to the Sea Islands with no prejudice against the Red Cross Society, but certainly with no prepossession in its favor. I had pictured it in my mind as a sort of fussy and contentious affair, running about with a tremendous amount of chatter and flourishing a great deal of red tape — a sort of circumlocution office, situated in the air between individual officiousness and newspaper notoriety.

As a matter of fact, the Red Cross Society as I saw it at Beaufort is something entirely different from any other relief organization that has come under my observation.

Its strongest and most admirable feature is its extreme simplicity. The perfection of its machinery is shown by the apparent absence of all machinery. There are no exhibitions of self-importance. There is no display – no torturous cross examination of applicants – no needless delay. And yet nothing is done blindly, or hastily, or indifferently.

This poor little tribute to Miss Clara Barton I want to pay in heartily seconding her appeal to the benevolence of the whole country carrying out her work on the Sea Islands

Such aid will be more important in the last days of her mission than it was when the sympathies of the public had been touched by the awful story of the disaster that went tingling over the wires on the last days of August.

I guess when and what I have been reading the last year about the bill to save America, the bill to rebuild America and the bill to save our climate the words “here are no exhibitions of self-importance. There is no display – no torturous cross examination of applicants – no needless delay. And yet nothing is done blindly, or hastily, or indifferently” just gets under my skin and make me want to scream.

The fussy and contentious affair, running about with a tremendous amount of chatter and flourishing a great deal of red tape that is Congress makes me want to grab Congress by the throat and bash its head against the wall.

If pro is the opposite of con, what is the opposite of progress?

God help us all.

Here are the two articles from Scribner’s Magazine – 1894.