“Coffee Tales, Chapter 13: Floy Dean”
Written By Myron J. Clifton
Mom likes to drink a single cup of coffee, light cream, and two teaspoons of sugar. I tried Mom’s coffee today, here is my review.
This is a coffee drink of purpose and destination. A drink without flair or newness. A coffee drink of relief and a boost. It is a drink of necessity as much as it is a drink of comfort. A drink one has in the morning that allows one to get into an unpredictable day and a drink one has in the evening in preparation for a long night ahead.
This is the type of drink one would have in order to work a graveyard shift that demanded acute attention, memory for numbers, sequences matched to places and names that whiz by one per second all night.
And this is the drink of a mother who has four kids and one of whom demands non-stop attention.
It is a drink of ages.
Of a meeting of people and cultures in a mystical place full of diverse people brought together by fate and old gods and goddesses communing over shared histories of Africans, French, Mexican, Haitian, British, Canadian and, of course, Native people which led to even more mixed cultures of Creole and Cajun.
A jambalaya of people, religion, magic, music, food, and ways to love.
A gumbo of people drawn together in a tiny town near the water, in a haunted place called Louisiana.
Louisiana, where a confluence of people and cultures, of free folk and slaves, of Catholic and ancient voodoo and older gods and goddesses all came together to form a magical land. A land where the Natives were here for close to three-thousand years in societies that thrived and established trading routes and healing centers across much of this ancient land.
This is the land that welcomed the new people, some who forced their way in and others who were forced to come. Once all the people were together they found a common love that bridged cultures, time, and beliefs: Food and drinks. And a coffee drink that causes one to pause: Café Brulot Diabolique, or “Devilishly Burned Coffee,” a gem of a coffee drink created close to a hundred years ago and made popular during Prohibition when there was a need to hide one’s alcohol, the drink adds lemon, cloves, cinnamon, sugar and brandy, to 3 cups of hot coffee.
Not Mom’s coffee, for sure.
This is the land of Mom’s coffee then, this land of purchase and pain, of too much water, and of magic that links many people and many goddesses. Chief among all the old and new goddesses are the women who understand Creation intimately as only women can and who use that understanding to bring forth all life. Some called them healers, or midwives, or High Priestesses, or doctors. They are also known as The Divine and Eternal Feminine and the Daughters of the Goddess of Creation.
These are the women who ushered her into the world in a cabin, in the woods, at the confluence of cultures new and ancient that perhaps all came together…for her.
To drink this drink then is to drink of these women from a different age and different time. Better time? Perhaps, perhaps not. But on this day, yes, they were better as they welcomed one of their own into a world no longer dominated by women. She was among the last of her kind in this land.
And for this she suffered.
Suffering, it is said, is part of life. It can lead to growth and understanding and even Zen and peace. Perhaps if one chooses that path those things can be true. But what if suffering is not by choice? What is suffering is forced upon you? What if suffering is from within?
What purpose then does it fulfill?
This coffee drink then is an acceptance of reality. A regular day. A moment that does not stand out. A need, but not a need fulfilled nor satisfied. It is temporary but transitioning because there is in this plain and regular cup of coffee… hope and life.. and love.
I believe this cup of coffee, cup of hope, is remembered by her when she is in the company of her women, her Goddesses and Creators who brought forth her life and who now welcome her back to their bosom, now and forever.
I drink this cup of coffee and all cups of coffee in remembrance Floy Dean- girl and woman, and then to remember Mom, and a twenty-one year love journey of riding on her hips, watching her read, and talk, and shop, and laugh, cook, and cry, and studying her every word, look, smile, hair, and expressions of life, pain, and love.
I drink this cup in remembrance and anticipation.
And I drink Mom’s coffee to see her being welcomed back by her life-givers who simply smile as they hug her.
And her smile reflects the stars and her laugh is the wind in heaven and she says through the smile and tears to the Goddesses gathered around to welcome her home:
“Let’s have a cup of coffee.”
This then, is Floy Dean’s and Mom’s drink.
© 2018 by Myron Clifton, Dear Dean Publishing. All Rights Reserved.