I don’t consider myself to be a coffee addict. I will admit that I’d rather not speak with you until I’ve had a sip or two from my first morning cup. But I live with a real live addict. In fact, our day always starts with breakfast and coffee in bed. I highly recommend this practice, in spite of the crumbs, as a possible replacement for marriage counseling.
How did his life-controlling addiction begin? Picture this with me if you will. A crisp fall day in northern Minnesota. The air holds a hint of the snow to come, but not just yet. Leaves dancing and whirling in a riot of color – brilliant yellow, dazzling red, deep vermillion. A cozy kitchen in a little white farmhouse beside the Kettle River. The woodstove snaps and crackles away in the corner. “Aiti” adds the grounds to the boiling water in the pot, crumbling in a few eggshells to reduce the acid. Oh, the aroma! Strained into a cup, it’s carried lovingly to the table.
A small towheaded boy in overalls, just starting to walk, toddles over to his “Isa” and watches him cooling the coffee in a saucer, adding rich thick cream. He rests his hand on his daddy’s knee and looks pleadingly at that fragrant saucer of coffee. Daddy can’t resist the look in those blue Finnish eyes. He bends down, places a sugar tablet in the boy’s mouth (thus accounting for numerous trips to the dentist later on), and offers him a taste. Magic. That’s how it all started.
When this little boy grew up and married me, I gradually learned the “in’s and out’s” of Finnish American culture. I was drawn into this new and fascinating world. I loved the sounds of the Finnish language, strange to me but somehow comforting, like the feeling of coming home to a place I’d never been. Of course I couldn’t understand a word at first, and would often ask a question of my new husband, only to have him reply, “Well, you were there!” Yes, that was true. However I had absolutely no idea what I was hearing. But it didn’t really matter because I was welcomed into this family with open arms. And a huge part of that welcome was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. For coffee runs through the veins of every authentic Finn.