The COFFEE Thread....

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The early part of June, 1961 was memorable for three things. I graduated from high school. I had my 18th birthday. I began my summer job in the 12" mill at Republic Steel on the far south side of Chicago. Work in a steel mill goes on for 24 hours a day, so men worked in 8-hour shifts. Days 0700-1500, swing 1500-2300 and graveyard 2300-0700. Hot. Noisy. Man's work. No boys worked in a steel mill. Men drink coffee, especially on the graveyard shift. I had not been a coffee drinker. I had tried it once at an outdoor event and I had to load my paper cup with milk and sugar to tolerate the taste of the stuff. My first night on the graveyard shift came up and I asked Mom to make a thermos of coffee with milk and sugar for me as she was making my lunch. I went in to work that hot summer night with a thermos of hot coffee. At around 0100 I poured a cup of Mom's coffee into the cup from the top of my thermos bottle and began to drink. Damn! It was strong. I made it through the night, drinking that stuff and when I got home, Dad was still there. He was in the bathroom, shaving when I thanked Mom for the coffee and asked her if she could please make it a little weaker for the next night. Dad yelled from the bathroom, "It's taken me 25 years to get her to make coffee the way I like it and if you don't like it, make your own coffee". End of discussion.
 
The early part of June, 1961 was memorable for three things. I graduated from high school. I had my 18th birthday. I began my summer job in the 12" mill at Republic Steel on the far south side of Chicago. Work in a steel mill goes on for 24 hours a day, so men worked in 8-hour shifts. Days 0700-1500, swing 1500-2300 and graveyard 2300-0700. Hot. Noisy. Man's work. No boys worked in a steel mill. Men drink coffee, especially on the graveyard shift. I had not been a coffee drinker. I had tried it once at an outdoor event and I had to load my paper cup with milk and sugar to tolerate the taste of the stuff. My first night on the graveyard shift came up and I asked Mom to make a thermos of coffee with milk and sugar for me as she was making my lunch. I went in to work that hot summer night with a thermos of hot coffee. At around 0100 I poured a cup of Mom's coffee into the cup from the top of my thermos bottle and began to drink. Damn! It was strong. I made it through the night, drinking that stuff and when I got home, Dad was still there. He was in the bathroom, shaving when I thanked Mom for the coffee and asked her if she could please make it a little weaker for the next night. Dad yelled from the bathroom, "It's taken me 25 years to get her to make coffee the way I like it and if you don't like it, make your own coffee". End of discussion.

When you find the person who makes your perfect coffee...they are worth their weight in gold! No two cup are ever the same!
 
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