Just Cream, No Sugar

I made coffee this morning and put in my usual amount of milk. I suddenly realized that, for me, the milk had nothing to do with how it made the coffee taste, more with how it looked.

I remember when I was younger, watching my dad, an avid coffee-drinker, prepare his coffee. It would start out black as black. He would pour creamer in and I’d watch it swirl in union with the coffee’s inky blackness as the spoon tinked with the sides of the mug. I was mesmerized by the beverage’s metamorphosis into a soft, caramel brown.

I watched my dad a lot, his mannerisms, the way he fixed things, the way he conversed with others, the way he swore. If he hit his thumb with a hammer he’d say, “Ssssssson-of-a-bitch!” Lengthening the sss sound and rushing through the rest of the expletive. I remember being very, very young - 4 maybe - we were at some dressy event like a wedding and I can recall studying the way my dad was standing. I then proceeded to walk over in front of him and ape his stance. I’m glad someone snapped a photo of me doing this; it’s one of my favorite pictures of my childhood because I was so young but remember copying him so vividly.

I am not sure what about my dad captivated me so. Maybe his eccentricity, his intelligence, his knack for bullshitting, his artistic ability, his musicality. He’s…a lot of things. I understand why he and my mom didn’t work out but I know he still loves her fiercely.

My dad turns 72 today and in the 31 years I’ve known him, I’m sad I don’t know him more deeply than I do, probably both our faults.  I don’t know about his family, how he grew up, how he did academically or if he played sports. I don’t know how he learned to play the guitar or even what his political standing is.

But I know that he talks with his hands, his favorite tool is black electrical tape, he can talk circles for hours, he liked to smoke Lucky Strikes and profanity does not phase him.

 And I know exactly how much cream to put in my coffee to achieve that same soft, caramel brown color. That’s something no one else knows.


Happy Birthday Dad. I love you and all of your unknown.