Clarence and Nita lived in Lebanon while he was a missionary. Many times I remember him praising the hospitality afforded to guests by the Lebanese people. It is not only a local or national cultural characteristic, but extends through much of the region. My family experienced it during our time in Turkey. I don’t know if my in-laws were raised that way, learned it in the Middle East, or adopted it afterward, but they were the consummate hosts when anyone came into their house. I just know that from the time I first met them until Clarence passed away and Nita moved in with one of their sons, they treated everybody as greatly honored special guests. That even extended to the young guy dating their oldest daughter, who eventually became a son-in-law…
I don’t remember when I started drinking coffee, but I do know I drank a LOT of it during my college years. I still drink quite a bit of coffee, and love my Keurig – it makes a consistently good cup of coffee.
This story takes place after Vonna and I had been married a number of years. We were at Clarence and Nita’s house the day after their return from a week-long stay at a cabin in the mountains of New Mexico. As Clarence and I sat in the living room talking, Nita asked if we wanted some coffee. We both said we did and she went back to the kitchen, where she and Vonna were talking, to put on the coffee. Not long afterward, Nita came back carrying mugs of coffee for us. It wasn’t necessary, but as I mentioned, being hospitable was always important to them.
Clarence and I differed on how we liked our coffee. He liked his so hot it wouldn’t have cooled a nuclear reactor. He also preferred his coffee black. I, on the other hand, like my coffee hot, yet cool enough that my taste buds don’t take days to recover. And while I also like black coffee, my preference is with some cream and sugar. Vonna and I had been married long enough, and Nita was observant enough to know exactly how much cream and sugar I liked in my coffee. So for years, whenever she had offered me a cup of coffee, she served it with those condiments stirred in. And it was always a great cup of coffee!
It has finally been resolved, but for decades Amarillo had issues with the salt content of the city water. At the time of this story, it was dramatically improved, but ice made from the city water still needed rinsing to remove the slight amount of salt forced to the outside by the freezing process before putting it in a drink. Cups and glasses, after being rinsed and allowed to dry upside down would sometimes have a slight salt taste when you first put the rim to your lips. So I thought nothing of it when I put the cup of coffee to my lips. Slight salt taste, no big deal. The temperature was just right for a large sip of the liquid…
As I brought it into my mouth, my expression must have changed dramatically. Clarence looked over at me and smiling, asked, “What’s the matter? Too hot for you?” I couldn’t answer, I had a mouth full of coffee. But it was unlike any coffee I had ever tasted! As I sat there, my face getting more and more red, I couldn’t decide whether to swallow it or spit it back into the cup! I finally decided on the latter action. Then I could respond to him and Nita, who, hearing his question had come back into the room. It was extremely salty! It took just a minute for Nita to figure out what had happened. When they had gone to the cabin, she had put several things in similar jars – flour, sugar, and SALT, among other things. Since they had just returned home, she was using the items she needed from the jars rather than the regular canisters. Unfortunately, the salt and sugar looked very similar and being distracted by the conversation with her daughter, she confused the two jars. I’m just glad it wasn’t something like detergent!
Apologizing profusely, as we all laughed about it, she brought a tray with a fresh cup of coffee, a spoon, sugar bowl and cream. I “doctored” my own coffee. To this day, over 30 years later, she has never again put cream and sugar in a cup of coffee for me…
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