I apologized the other day for the lack of posting. Those of you who know me IRL and/or follow my personal social media accounts know that my Dad was in ill health this summer and passed away recently.
My Dad was the most devoted reader of this little folly. He always took an interest in my coffee adventures, would carefully cut out and mail to me articles about coffee from his beloved daily paper, some of which I shamelessly lifted. He always wanted to know if I had found a new place for coffee and how good it was, how I was making it at home. Even in his last days, when I would visit he’d rather talk about where I had gone for coffee that day than his health situation. I’m pretty sure he was happier for me to find a good coffee place had opened near his suburban home than I was.
I’d like to share a story about him. One time he took me to Fuddruckers (do they still exist?). I remembered this happening with my brothers when we were kids, but neither of them shared the recollection so perhaps it was just me. Anyway, as he placed the order he had me/us find a table. He sat down, and after a while we hear “JULIUS, YOUR ORDER IS READY.” Dad, whose name was Jonathan (he always went by Jon), gets up with just a hint of a smile on his face and saunters over to pick up our food. Found out from him later it was a tribute to Dr. J.
Dad spent his last days in the hospital in Philadelphia, and my brothers and I were fortunate enough to spend them with him. On my walk from the hotel to the hospital one morning I stopped for a coffee, and when it was time to leave my name I knew what to do.