Until Then, There Is Coffee

Sometimes I sit with my morning coffee and think …

This is it. This is the high point of my day.

It’s not that I don’t expect something better to happen in the hours ahead.

It’s not that I expect something worse.

I just take another sip and think …

Nothing. Nothing else is going to happen today.

This is both sort of sad, but also comforting.

At least the day had a high point. And, if nothing happens that means that nothing bad will happen.

That’s about as good as it gets these days.

This morning’s coffee, ordered special from a California roaster north of San Francisco where Editor/Husband and I spent our wedding day (long story), is smooth and rich and better than Starbucks or Peets or Dunkin’ Donuts, or whatever it is you can buy off the grocery shelf.

Two months ago, I would throw my coffee into my travel mug and rush out the door. I always like arriving early at my studio so when my first client of the day strolls in, I look settled … like I’ve been there for hours.

But, I didn’t savor the coffee. I had other things to do.

Now, with my studio closed, I pay very close attention to the coffee. What else do I have to do?

I’m sitting here, in my pajamas, drinking my coffee. I guess I’m looking pretty settled here. Bad hair day, sure. But, hey, whose isn’t?

On Monday mornings, I open the calendar on my computer and one-by-one delete each appointment for the week ahead. Delete. Delete. Delete.

I wonder how my clients are doing.

I wonder if they miss me.

I take another sip.

The Kansas City Royals should be playing the Baltimore Orioles at Camden Yards today, if this were any other day. But, it’s not any other day. It is April 28, 2020, and all games are off.

On April 28, 1896, the Washington Senators defeated the Orioles at Baltimore’s Union Park, 9 to 5.

The day’s attendance: 4,810.

(This may seem small to you, but it is five times better than the measly 800 that turned up in New York that afternoon to watch the Giants lose their sixth home game in a row, this one to the Boston Beaneaters, 6 to 3.)

The Orioles were about to begin a long road trip. Their next game in Baltimore wouldn’t be until May 25.

The 1896 Washington Senators weren’t very good. (I’m being kind. They were lousy.)

But, on April 28, they were good enough.

The Washington Star, 4/29/2020

“Many Pleasant Things Said About The Washingtons”

Pleasant things like …

The Baltimore Sun, 4/29/2020

“They Woke Up”

The Orioles’ loss, The Baltimore Sun explained, was due to the Orioles’ “overconfidence, woefully weak batting, very bad catching … and several errors.”


Even Wee Willie Keeler, one of the greatest to ever play in Baltimore … one of the greatest to play ever … had a bad day.

“The Orioles seemed sleepy at times,” The Sun noted. “The usually wide-awake Keeler was caught at first by that very old trick of the baseman making a motion to throw and holding the ball under his arm.”

Wee Willie Keeler was deked. Deked!

Would have loved to have seen that.

Wouldn’t you?

That the 1896 Orioles would go on to win the NL pennant and sweep Cleveland in the Temple Cup (the precursor to the World Series) in October wasn’t apparent on April 28.

The Baltimore Sun, 10/9/1896

There’s always hope that things will get better.

And, until then, there is coffee.

By: Chevanon Photography via Pexels.com

22 thoughts on “Until Then, There Is Coffee

  1. Until there is a shortage of coffee. If it can happen to toilet paper and meat (for us omnivores), none of life’s essentials are exempt.

  2. For me it’s my morning tea, after feeding the cat of course. In the time it takes to heat the water and steep the leaves, I can wash some blueberries, scoop out some yogurt, and toss some raw almonds in a bowl. Then it’s time to sit with a kitty on my lap and contemplate the day ahead and those tasks that still need to be addressed. I will surely be glad to see the end of this horrible virus, but with no appointments to keep and no obligations to others, I find I am enjoying the time for doing small things that always seemed to fall by the wayside and for reading a good book and for keeping in touch with family and friends.

    • Keeping in touch with family and friends — not literally, of course — is so tinged with unease. A friend contacted me out of the blue last week, because she was very ill and quarantined with covid. She was distraught — feeling as much pain of loneliness as pain from the fever and illness itself. And, I wonder as I write at the top of every note I send: “I hope you’re doing well” … when what I really mean to say is: “Please tell me you’re ok.”

      • It is a frightening time , and the limits on human contact are indeed a source of loneliness and isolation. There is no denying that. Perhaps it is the fact that I live with my youngest sister that makes it a bit easier to be confined except for groceries and doctor visits. And perhaps it is that I remember a time when we worried about an enemy dropping bombs on the city where I lived and having our food rationed and having family and friends who were away and in danger and listening to radio reports of daily devastation. Those were all things out of my control, and it lasted a long time, longer than it will take to find a treatment or vaccine for this virus. My perspective is surely different from those who didn’t share those earlier years, and my heart goes out to all those who have lost a loved one or are suffering the effects of these drastic days.

  3. I wonder how the coffee compares to Tim Hortons, which is excellent, as is their hot chocolate. I can say I’ve never drank coffee at a ball game. Some local eateries here have been told by the governor they can voluntarily open Friday. Anything we can get.

    • I’ve had Tim Hortons … it’s not as good as it used to be. I was at my Yoga studio today … and as I stood there and looked around at my studio and thought about teaching and practicing in masks and having to significantly cut the size of classes by marking social distance “safe zones” on the floor in electrical tape and having to sanitize constantly … all I could think was: “I don’t know how this can ever work again.” :(

  4. Ever since being shut in, I’ve been buying coffee from roasters that I know of, or once visited, or that lust seem interesting. I’ve probably got about five pounds in the kitchen at the moment. One of the best I’ve had is called Public Lands coffee. It’s from South Carolina and with each sale they make a contribution to Appalachian Trail maintenance volunteers.

    • That sounds great … Thanksgiving supports its farmers and offers shade grown and other kind-to-the-land options. I feel uber good to know that my cup of coffee is a just one. And, yours is, too. Yay, us! (Boy, I miss baseball. I’m sure you do, too.)

  5. Your students are thinking about you, that is a certainty. I’ve been following an online yoga series offered through our local public recreation organization, and I have to say that I like being there “live,” even if it is viewed through Facebook Live. There’s something about community, same time/same place and purpose. I can’t wait to find this instructor in the new post-quarantine world, and tell her in person what her online presence has meant for my well-being. Thanks for the “savor the coffee” reminder. I’m about 50-50 on that these days, and you’re right about that being a something good for the day! We are missing ball here. Missing it collectively, and missing it individually, especially a certain fourteen-year-old who desperately needed 2020 to be his comeback year! Take care, Jackie! Thanks for a great post.

    • Hi Wendy! I’m so glad you found some Yoga! I’ve been doing audio classes online … it was very peculiar at first, teaching to an empty room or an uninterested cat, but now it seems increasingly normal. I heard from a couple people that just the sound of my voice was helpful — it made things seem normal again. So, I’ve just kept posting classes for whoever wants ’em. Coffee makes things seem normal for me, too. And, wine. And, thinking about baseball. Take care, my friend!

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