Morning Coffee: Who Should Remain on the Friends List?

September 22, 2026September 21, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

A friends list should not require complete agreement. The better question is not whether someone thinks like us, but whether they can disagree while still treating others with dignity.

September 22, 2026

Two smartphones beside two coffee cups on a wooden table — ^{_{Two smartphones rest beside coffee cups in a warmly lit, relaxed workspace.}}

This weekend, Steve and I found ourselves discussing a modern-day question: Who should we remain social media friends with?

It’s the first day of fall, so you know what that means: seasonal cleaning! Grab the broom and dusting cloth, clear away yesterday’s dust, and make room for everything this new season may bring.

Some of our online friends are people we know personally. Others entered our lives professionally. Some are kinfolk—and, as everyone knows, you do not get to choose your kinfolk. You simply learn which subjects should never be discussed at Thanksgiving.

Then there are the people we have never met. By every traditional definition, they are strangers. Yet, through years of comments, photographs, birthday wishes and shared stories, some of them have become more thoughtful and dependable than people we once saw every day.

Our friends lists also contain a few hangovers from our school years. Some go all the way back to kindergarten, while others joined us somewhere between high school and our last stop in higher education. There are former coworkers, old neighbors, distant cousins and people we once knew well but now recognize primarily by their profile pictures.

Together, they make up this grand and rather peculiar collection called a “friends list.”

The question Steve and I discussed was whether the things these people post could affect how others see us. Does remaining connected to someone suggest that we agree with everything that person believes?

Suppose a distant social media friend—someone we have never met—announces that they are against oxygen. Suddenly, the rumor begins circulating that Ben and Steve want people to stop breathing.

That would be the furthest thing from the truth. We want almost everyone to continue breathing.

But social media does not leave much room for careful distinctions. A friendship, a “like,” or even a silent connection can sometimes be interpreted as an endorsement. People may assume that because someone appears on our friends list, we approve of everything that person says.

That brings us to the difficult part: Who stays, and who goes?

Should one negative political post be enough to unfriend someone? Probably not. Most of us have had a bad day, written something too quickly or allowed frustration to speak before good judgment arrived.

Disagreement alone is not necessarily a reason to end a friendship. If someone dislikes watermelons, for instance, I might question their judgment—but I would not immediately remove them from my life.

However, if they begin posting that people who eat watermelons are destroying America, should be denied medical care and ought to be rounded up before the next family picnic, then we have moved beyond a harmless difference of opinion.

There is a difference between disagreeing with people and demeaning them.

Someone may disagree with our politics, our religion, our marriage or the way we live our lives. They have that right. But we also have the right to decide what behavior we will welcome into our personal space.

A friends list should not require complete agreement. If it did, most of us would eventually be left talking only to ourselves—and even then, I occasionally disagree with myself.

The better question may not be, “Does this person think like me?” It may be, “Does this person treat others with basic dignity?”

Can they disagree without becoming cruel? Can they discuss an issue without insulting entire groups of people? Do their posts contribute something worthwhile, or do they exist mainly to provoke fear, anger and division? When they discover that something they shared was false, do they correct it—or simply move on to the next falsehood?

Those questions tell us much more about a person than whether they vote the same way we do.

There is also a difference between making a mistake and establishing a pattern. One thoughtless post can be forgiven. A steady stream of hatred, personal attacks and deliberate misinformation becomes a choice.

At that point, unfriending someone is not necessarily an act of punishment. It may simply be an act of housekeeping.

We clean our homes by deciding what belongs inside them. Perhaps we should occasionally do the same with our social media spaces.

That does not mean everyone who irritates us must be shown the door. Social media platforms usually provide quieter choices. We can unfollow someone without ending the connection. We can mute a page, hide certain posts or simply continue scrolling.

Not every disagreement requires a courtroom, a family feud or a public announcement beginning with the words, “I am cleaning up my friends list.”

Sometimes the healthiest response is simply to stop giving someone our attention.

Steve and I did not establish a complicated set of rules. We did not begin working down the alphabet, judging every person from childhood onward. Instead, we came back to something much simpler.

We can remain connected to people who disagree with us. We can even learn from them. But we do not have to provide an audience for cruelty, hatred or the deliberate humiliation of others.

Friendship should leave room for differences. It should not require us to surrender our peace, compromise our values or remain silent while others are treated as less than human.

So, who should remain on the friends list?

Perhaps the people who remind us that there is still room in this world for conversation, laughter, kindness and the occasional disagreement over watermelon.

As for oxygen, Steve and I remain firmly in favor of it.

Since it is the first week of fall, we are doing a little seasonal cleaning around here—dusting off a few stories that deserve another moment in the light. You will notice as you read this weeks stories there will be a few cleaning tips sprinkled about as you read. ;-)

Have another cup of coffee—and please, continue breathing.

—— Who should remain on our social media friends list? The people who disagree with us—or only those who know how to disagree without becoming cruel? This Morning Coffee considers friendship, boundaries, watermelons and why Ben and Steve remain firmly in favor of oxygen.

September 21, 2026September 19, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

By the Time Hollywood Gets to Georgia – The GOP Will Be Crying…

Conservative states may believe they are taking Hollywood away from California. But movie productions bring more than cameras, celebrities and California money. They also bring thousands of workers—and some may decide to stay. While political leaders carefully redraw their districts, could they also be importing the very voters who might redraw their political future?

September 21, 2026

###

Take a big long sip!

You are going to need it. Maybe take another.

This will be a morning that you also should take bite out of something sweet. I suggest an Apple Fritter. Heavily glazed. The sugar rush will come in later regardless.

Now then.

Stylized United States map linking Hollywood, Phoenix, Dallas, Austin, and Atlanta — _{^{A cinematic map connects Hollywood with major production hubs across the United States.}}

Sheriff Otis and I have been listening to all this talk about re-districting— those voter’s districts being re-drawn, challenged, redrawn, rechallenged and hauled through the courts until nobody is entirely sure which district they live in or whether their congressman is still their congressman.

Several conservative states apparently believe they have discovered the perfect lines. They may have won.

Or have they?

While everybody was staring at the political maps, California may have been looking at a much larger map—the one showing where the movie studios are going.

California, after all, is not some little roadside economy surviving on oranges, movie stars and photographs of the Hollywood sign. Its economy is larger than those of most countries. If California were an independent nation, recent economic figures would place it among the largest economies in the world.

It could probably afford its own army, navy and air force. With Hollywood involved, it could film the invasion, win an Academy Award for it and sell the streaming rights before lunch.

Yet many people continue to speak of California as though it contributes nothing useful to the country.

Nothing, that is, except the movies, television programs, technology, agricultural products and enormous amounts of money they would very much like California to bring into their states.

Georgia, Texas and other states have been offering film incentives to attract productions away from Hollywood. They see studio lights, camera crews and production money arriving, and they begin smiling from rear to rear, believing they have finally found the end of the rainbow.

“Bring us your movies!” they shout.

“Build your studios here!”

“Spend that California money in our restaurants, hotels and Hoot-and-Whistles!”

But they may not have thought the entire thing through.

Productions do not arrive by themselves. They bring actors, camera operators, costume designers, makeup artists, writers, carpenters, electricians and thousands of other workers. Some remain only long enough to finish a production and return home. Others may decide they like the lower cost of living, the warm weather or the fact that a person can still find a parking space.

Those who genuinely establish residency may eventually register to vote.

Sheriff Otis howls out “BLUE VOTERS, MAYNARD!”

You heard me (he barks.)

Liberals moving east from California.

^{_{Or as Otis refers to it, A very bad area to sniff. (It smells of cow and oil drums.)}}

The very states hoping to attract California’s entertainment industry could also attract Californians. Those newcomers might vote in school-board races, city-council elections and contests for governor, Congress and the Senate.

They will not necessarily vote alike, of course. Californians are not produced on a political assembly line, even if Hollywood probably owns the rights to one.

Still, imagine the irony.

Political leaders redraw districts hoping to protect their party, then approve enormous incentives that encourage thousands of workers from another state to move directly into those carefully constructed districts.

It would be the greatest political plot twist since television viewers learned that J.R. had been shot.

And who helped encourage the great migration of studios, corporations and media operations across the country?

The same political leaders who wanted California’s business without California’s influence.

They wanted the gold.

They just forgot that California is called the Golden State because Californians tend to arrive with it.

Perhaps California does not need to fight every redistricting map in court. Perhaps it merely needs to send a film crew.

Before long, every carefully drawn district could contain a casting director, three screenwriters, two sound engineers and somebody ordering an oat-milk latte at the Fill-Your-Buggy.

Conservative states may believe they are taking Hollywood away from California.

California may simply be franchising.

Morning Coffee: Father Time Clocks In

September 20, 2026September 18, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Warren Buffett says Father Time always wins. At 96, he has stepped down as chairman of Berkshire Hathaway, leaving me to wonder: Did anyone ever call him at bedtime because the evening shift was short?

September 20, 2026

###

Warren Buffett, age approximately one thousand, has stepped down as chairman of Berkshire Hathaway.

I included “Berkshire” because if I had said only “Hathaway,” some of you might have pictured Miss Jane from The Beverly Hillbillies. At Buffett’s age, I half expect her to step out of a closet with a ledger and tell him Mr. Drysdale needs him at the bank.

Buffett is actually 96.

His son Howard, a youthful 71, is taking over as chairman.

Greg Abel is already running the company as CEO, so Howard won’t have to spend his first day learning where they keep the keys to every Dairy Queen.

Buffett said, “Father Time always wins.” He is right about that. But I do wonder what retirement feels like when your workday has involved moving billions of dollars. Did anyone ever call just as he was getting into bed and say, “Warren, the evening shift is short. Can you come in?” Did he ever have to find someone to cover a holiday weekend?

I’m sure his work carried pressures I’ll never know. Still, I hope Howard is ready for the family tradition: putting in a few decades at Berkshire, reaching his seventies, and being told it’s finally his turn to take the chair.

As for Warren, I hope he enjoys retirement. He can sleep in, take a leisurely breakfast, and resist the urge to check how much the coffee company is worth.

Then again, after a lifetime of working, perhaps the hardest part is simply sitting down long enough to drink the coffee while it’s hot.

Morning Coffee: The Sausage Patties

September 19, 2026September 17, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Whatever the reason, I’ll be back next weekend. Our waitress can probably write down my order now.

For those who have been around a time or two, you know where to find Steve and me on a weekend morning. For anyone just arriving, let me bring you up to speed.

Every weekend, usually Saturday or Sunday and sometimes both, we visit the same local restaurant. Our waitress looks for us. By the time we settle into a booth, she knows what I’m having, and our drinks are already on their way.

Three Sausage Patties, three eggs, wheat toast, hash browns, and a bowl of gravy. That is my order. Steve is more complicated. He studies the menu, makes a decision, changes his mind, and studies it again.

My order never changes. There’s comfort in that, especially at the end of a week when everything else seems to have demanded a decision.

I should explain the capital letters. Those Sausage Patties deserve them. They are, as we used to say when I was growing up, to die for. Back then, we said that about all sorts of things. These days, I’m happy just to get up on a weekend morning and go have breakfast.

I think fennel is part of what makes them so good. At least, that’s the word I intend to say. At the restaurant, Steve and I sometimes call it “fentanyl” by mistake. Then one of us catches it, and we both start laughing. Our waitress knows perfectly well what we mean, though I suspect she enjoys watching us try to get the word right.

The mix-up has become part of our weekend routine. I can forget the name of the seasoning halfway through a sentence, but I never forget how those patties taste. By midweek, I’m already looking forward to their return performance.

Of course, the sausage alone wouldn’t make this our place. Our waitress remembers us. Steve gets all the time he needs with the menu. I get to sit across from him while our breakfast arrives, knowing that for a little while, there is nowhere else we need to be.

It’s a simple pleasure. That may be why I keep coming back to it.

Next weekend, Steve will open the menu and consider his options. Our waitress will look at me, pick up her pen, and smile. She already knows. And if I happen to mention the wrong herb again, I know she’ll know what I mean. Her name? Christin-a.

Morning Coffee — A Serious Cup, Then Something Lighter

September 18, 2026September 16, 2026Benjamin2 Comments

Today’s Morning Coffee begins a little differently. Before we turn to a more serious story about the Kennedy Center and America’s history, we’ll first share a few surprising facts, a little humor, and a reminder that coffee and conversations about the country have gone together for generations.

September 18,2026

Good Friday morning.

Normally, this would be where I pour the coffee, settle into the chair, and leave you with something simple to carry into the weekend.

Today is a little different.

Following this morning’s coffee, you will find a story that is considerably more serious. It concerns the Kennedy Center, the memory of President John F. Kennedy, and some of the larger questions I believe America is facing about history, institutions and what we choose to preserve for future generations.

I apologize for handing you something so heavy before you have finished your first cup.

But sometimes Morning Coffee is not only about making the morning easier. Sometimes it is about sitting together long enough to talk about something that matters.

So read the story that follows when you are ready.

Before we get there, however, I thought we should end the week with a few things that might make you say, “Well, I didn’t know that.”

Things You May Not Know

The Library of Congress receives roughly 15,000 items every working day and adds more than 10,000 of them to its collections. Somewhere in Washington, somebody apparently has a much larger “to be filed” pile than the rest of us.

The smallest book in the Library of Congress is called Old King Cole. It measures only about 1/25 of an inch by 1/25 of an inch—roughly the size of the period at the end of a sentence. Meanwhile, its largest book is approximately five feet by seven feet. That is less a book and more something you could use to replace a bedroom wall.

The Library also possesses written material dating to about 2040 B.C. and printed Buddhist texts dating to approximately 770 A.D. It is humbling to realize that human beings were already writing things down thousands of years before somebody invented the phrase, “I forgot my password.”

And since this is Morning Coffee, here is one especially appropriate bit of history.

James Smithson—the British scientist whose fortune eventually created the Smithsonian Institution—actually published his own method for making coffee in 1823. So apparently even the man behind the Smithsonian had opinions about how a proper cup should be made.

Coffee itself has a rather patriotic chapter in American history. After the Boston Tea Party, drinking coffee increasingly became associated with rejecting British tea, and colonial coffeehouses became important gathering places where politics, news and revolutionary ideas were discussed.

Which means that sitting around drinking coffee and talking about the condition of the country is hardly something we invented.

Americans have apparently been doing it for centuries.

So take another sip.

Enjoy your Friday.

And when you are ready, the next story is a little more serious.

Sometimes history asks us to remember.

Sometimes it asks us to pay attention.

And occasionally, it asks us to do both before the coffee gets cold.

Have a great Friday from benandsteve.com — and may your weekend begin with something good.

Regardless of what you are about to read.

Morning Coffee — Don’t Hurry Past Today

September 16, 2026September 14, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

oh lord coffee please purple and pink cup — _{^{Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com}}

We spend so much time waiting for the next important day that we sometimes overlook the ordinary ones.

September 16, 2026

Wednesday has an unusual position in the week.

Monday is the beginning.

Friday is the finish line everybody seems to be watching.

Wednesday is simply standing somewhere in the middle, usually receiving very little attention.

Perhaps that makes it a lot like life.

We spend an enormous amount of time waiting for something else.

Waiting for Friday.

Waiting for vacation.

Waiting for retirement.

Waiting until the weather cools down.

Waiting until the bills are paid.

Waiting until we have more time.

Waiting until life finally settles down enough for us to enjoy it.

Then one day we look behind us and discover that all of those ordinary days we hurried through were life.

They weren’t the space between important moments.

They were the important moments.

The morning when nothing unusual happened.

The dog sleeping nearby.

Someone you love sitting in the next room.

The familiar sound of the coffeemaker finishing its work.

A telephone conversation about absolutely nothing important.

Dinner at the same table.

A sunset you have seen hundreds of times.

Those things rarely announce themselves as memories while they are happening.

But years later, they can become the things we would give almost anything to experience one more time.

That is why perhaps Wednesday deserves a little respect.

It reminds us that the middle matters.

Not every day needs to be memorable.

Not every morning needs a purpose beyond simply being here to experience it.

There is something comforting about an ordinary day.

No emergency.

No terrible telephone call.

No unexpected crisis.

Just another cup of coffee and another sunrise.

We sometimes call that boring.

Maybe we should call it fortunate.

So today, don’t hurry too quickly toward Friday.

Take a look around Wednesday first.

Notice who is sitting beside you.

Notice who calls.

Notice the familiar sounds around your home.

Notice the ordinary things that make your life yours.

Someday you may discover those were the things that mattered most.

Finish your coffee before it gets cold.

Stay in the conversation a little longer.

And don’t be so eager to get to tomorrow that you completely miss today.

Have a peaceful Wednesday.

Wednesday may only be the middle of the week—but perhaps the middle deserves more attention. Today’s Morning Coffee is about slowing down long enough to notice your life while you are living it.

Morning Coffee — The People Who Quietly Hold Us Up

September 15, 2026September 17, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Life is rarely held together by grand gestures. More often, it is held together by ordinary people quietly showing up when somebody needs them.

September 14, 2026

Some of the most important people in our lives rarely receive a standing ovation.

Five adults having a conversation in a library, with one taking notes — ^{_{A diverse group gathers for a thoughtful conversation among the library shelves.}}

They don’t make speeches.

They don’t arrive with trumpets sounding.

Most of the time, they simply show up.

They are the person who notices when your voice sounds different on the telephone.

The neighbor who brings your trash container back toward the house.

The friend who sends a message saying, “Just checking on you.”

The coworker who quietly finishes something because they know you’ve had a difficult day.

The family member who has heard the same story many times but listens again anyway.

These are not spectacular acts when measured individually.

But life is not held together entirely by spectacular acts.

It is held together by thousands of small ones.

We remember the people who were there when everything fell apart because their presence became part of the memory itself. Years later, we may forget exactly what they said, but we remember that they stayed.

There is tremendous comfort in knowing somebody stayed.

Sometimes that is all a person needs.

Not advice.

Not a solution.

Not someone trying to explain why everything will eventually be fine.

Just someone willing to sit beside them long enough for the world to become manageable again.

We often underestimate the value of our own presence for the same reason.

We think helping someone requires something remarkable.

Usually, it doesn’t.

A cup of coffee across the kitchen table can help.

A five-minute telephone call can help.

Remembering somebody’s birthday can help.

Asking, “How are you doing?” and actually waiting for the answer can help.

The ordinary kindnesses are rarely ordinary to the person who needed them.

So while you are having your coffee this morning, think about the people who quietly helped hold your world together at different times in your life.

Some may still be here.

Some may have already gone on.

Some may never have known how much their small kindness meant.

And then consider this:

You may be that person for somebody else today.

You might never know it.

That is the interesting thing about kindness. We rarely know how far it travels after it leaves our hands.

So make the call.

Send the message.

Hold the door.

Listen to the story.

Stay a few minutes longer.

The world has enough people trying to make grand impressions.

What it desperately needs are more people willing to make small differences.

Enjoy your coffee, and have a wonderful Tuesday.

You may never know how much a simple call, visit, or kind word means to another person. This morning’s coffee is for the people who quietly stay.

Morning Coffee — A Fresh Cup, A Fresh Start

September 14, 2026September 12, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Monday gives us something yesterday cannot—a fresh opportunity. We cannot rewrite what has already happened, but we can decide what happens next.

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026
September 14, 2026

There is something forgiving about Monday morning.

close up shot of a cup of coffee — _{^{Photo by hello aesthe on Pexels.com}}

It doesn’t always feel that way, of course. Monday has developed a reputation for being the day nobody particularly wants to see coming. The alarm seems louder, the bed feels more comfortable, and that first cup of coffee often carries considerably more responsibility than coffee should ever be expected to handle.

But perhaps Monday deserves another look.

Monday is another beginning.

Whatever went wrong last week has already happened. Whatever we didn’t finish is waiting for another attempt. The words we wish we had said differently cannot be pulled back, but the next words out of our mouths can be kinder.

Life gives us remarkably few opportunities to change yesterday.

It gives us countless opportunities to change today.

That is worth remembering as we sit with our coffee this morning.

Maybe you have been carrying something around that has become heavier than it needs to be. A disagreement. A disappointment. An unfinished task. Something you have been putting off because beginning it seems harder than continuing to avoid it.

Monday may be as good a day as any to set it down, straighten it out, or simply begin again.

You don’t have to repair your entire life before lunch.

Sometimes progress is nothing more dramatic than making the phone call, answering the message, washing the dishes, opening the curtains, or finally taking the first step toward something you have been thinking about for weeks.

Small beginnings still count.

We tend to celebrate the grand accomplishments because they are easy to see. But nearly every great accomplishment started somewhere very ordinary—with someone deciding, on an otherwise unremarkable morning, that today they would try.

Perhaps that is Monday’s real gift.

It arrives whether we are ready for it or not and quietly places another blank page in front of us.

So pour the coffee.

Take your time with the first few sips.

Then decide what deserves another chance today.

It might be a project.

It might be a relationship.

It might simply be you.

Whatever it is, remember this: starting over does not mean you failed.

Sometimes it simply means you learned enough from yesterday to approach today differently.

And that sounds like a pretty good reason to raise the coffee cup.

Have a wonderful Monday, and make something good out of the day in front of you.

Morning Coffee – There is Another Way…

September 13, 2026September 10, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Sometimes we become so focused on the road we are traveling that we forget there may be another way. A different choice, a fresh perspective, or simply the courage to ask,

“What else is possible?”

can open doors we never noticed before.

September 13, 2026

Good morning.

cup of coffee and peg message board with funny title — ^{_{Photo by https://kaboompics.com/ on Pexels.com}}

Pour yourself a cup of coffee and consider something we sometimes forget when life becomes difficult:

There is usually another way.

We have a habit of looking at life as though someone has handed us a map with only one road marked on it. We convince ourselves that we must continue in the direction we are traveling because turning around would mean failure, changing course would mean weakness, or choosing something different would mean admitting we were wrong.

But life doesn’t work that way.

Sometimes the smartest thing we can do is stop long enough to notice the little road running off to the side.

Maybe there is another job.

Another friendship.

Another town.

Another dream.

Another way of spending your time.

Another way of looking at something that has bothered you for years.

Sometimes the alternative isn’t even something outside of us. Sometimes the new direction begins simply by changing the way we see what is already there.

A closed door doesn’t always mean the journey is over. It may simply mean we have been standing at the wrong door.

There are moments when we become so determined to make one particular thing work that we overlook every other possibility around us. We push harder. We worry more. We replay conversations. We imagine everything that could go wrong.

Meanwhile, another possibility may be sitting quietly beside us saying, You could try this instead.

That doesn’t mean we should abandon everything whenever life becomes difficult. Some things are worth fighting for. Some relationships are worth repairing. Some dreams deserve another attempt.

But perseverance and stubbornness are not always the same thing.

Wisdom sometimes means knowing when to keep pushing.

And sometimes wisdom means recognizing that you are allowed to choose another road.

There is tremendous freedom in those words:

You have options.

You have options.

You can reconsider.

You can begin again.

You can change your mind.

You can learn something today that causes you to see yesterday differently.

You can decide that what once mattered greatly to you doesn’t matter nearly as much anymore.

And you do not need permission to grow beyond the person you used to be.

Perhaps that is where we begin this morning.

Not by asking, How do I make everything stay the same?

But by asking:

What else is possible?

Look around.

There may be another road you haven’t noticed yet.

And it just might lead somewhere wonderful.

Have a great day from benandsteve.com — and remember, sometimes a fresh perspective begins with nothing more complicated than realizing there are other options.

Morning Coffee ––– What We Carry Into the Day

September 12, 2026September 9, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Every morning gives us another opportunity to decide what we will carry into the day. We may not control everything that happens, but we can still choose kindness, patience and the small acts that make an ordinary day a little better.

September 12, 2026

There is something about the first cup of coffee that feels like a small beginning.

black and white text on black wall — _{^{Photo by James Frid on Pexels.com}}

The house may still be quiet. The day may not have completely decided what it intends to become. For a few minutes, there is only the warmth of the cup in our hands and the opportunity to decide what we are going to carry with us into the hours ahead.

And we do carry things.

We carry yesterday’s disappointments. We carry conversations we wish had gone differently. We carry worries about tomorrow, people we love, bills that need paying, decisions that need making, and questions for which we still have no answers.

But we also carry something else.

We carry kindness.

We carry the memory of someone who once helped us when they didn’t have to. We carry the laughter of people who have shared our table. We carry lessons taught to us by parents, grandparents, friends and sometimes complete strangers who crossed our path only briefly.

Perhaps one of the greatest choices we make every morning is deciding which of those things deserves the most room.

There will always be something to worry about. There will always be someone determined to spoil a perfectly good day. And there will always be circumstances beyond our control.

But we still get to decide what we contribute.

Wooden sign reading, "Be kind to the people around you, the life you save might be your own." — _{^{A wooden park sign shares a heartfelt reminder to treat others with kindness.}}

A kind word costs very little.

Holding a door takes only a moment.

Calling someone who has been on your mind might change their entire afternoon.

And sometimes simply listening to another person without trying to correct them, hurry them or outdo their story is one of the finest gifts we can give.

None of these things will make the evening news.

There won’t be a parade.

Nobody is likely to hand us a trophy for being decent to another human being.

But those small acts have a way of traveling farther than we ever realize.

So this morning, while the coffee is still warm, perhaps we can leave a little room in the day for something good.

We don’t have to change the whole world before lunchtime.

Changing one person’s moment might be enough.

And sometimes, without ever knowing it, that person may be us.

Have a great day from benandsteve.com — and may your coffee be warm, your worries be light, and the kindness you send into the world find its way back home.

Be kind to others, it is really the right thing to do.

Morning Coffee*2 – Today We Had To Have A Second Cup of Coffee –

September 11, 2026September 11, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

September 11th, 2001 How The Day’s Events Unfolded

September 11, 2026

_{^{We Will Never Forget September 11, 2001}}

The Morning Everything Changed

For me, September 11, 2001, began as an average day.

There was nothing about that morning that suggested history was about to interrupt ordinary life.

It was just before 9:00 a.m. I had stopped at the Mayor’s Office in Wichita, Kansas, to drop off schedules and some other papers. After finishing there, I stepped into the elevator to head down toward the Chief of Police’s Office.

Several other people were riding with me.

Then my phone rang.

city skyline during night time — ^{_{Photo by Philip Warp on Pexels.com}}

At that time, it still wasn’t especially common for everyone to be carrying a cell phone the way we do today. I looked at the incoming number and knew immediately that I probably needed to answer it.

I barely had time to offer a greeting.

I was told to stop what I was doing and get over to the Wichita Eagle as quickly as possible to monitor what I could from the wire.

There had been an attack on the World Trade Center.

That was all I knew.

I made my way toward my vehicle, still trying to understand what I had just been told.

Then another call came.

A second airplane had struck the other tower.

I remember saying aloud, almost in disbelief:

“What? An airplane just hit the towers? Two of them?”

The people standing nearby looked at me in shock.

They wanted to know what was happening.

I told them the only thing I could tell them with any certainty:

Get to a television or a radio.

It appeared our nation was under attack.

By the time I arrived at the Wichita Eagle, the newsroom—or bullpen, as we called it—was unusually quiet.

It was full of reporters, but there was none of the ordinary newsroom chatter.

I stood just outside the room on the landing, watching television monitors and listening as the Associated Press wire sounded with update after update.

Someone would grab the latest report and read it aloud.

New York.

Then Pennsylvania.

Then Virginia and the District of Columbia.

Each update seemed worse than the one before it.

You could feel the realization spreading through the room that this was not going to be a normal news day.

It was going to be a very long day.

None of us standing there could have known just how long its shadow would become.

September 11 would destroy thousands of lives in a matter of hours. It would leave families grieving, reshape national security, change the way Americans traveled, and alter the direction of the country.

But history also has a strange way of reaching into individual lives in ways we cannot immediately see.

That day ultimately became part of the chain of events that changed my own life.

The economic and employment changes that followed would eventually lead Steve and me away from Kansas and the lower Great Plains and toward Arizona.

We went from winters of ice, snow, and cold prairie winds to the Sonoran Desert and summers measured in heat waves.

airplane over american flags near washington monument — _{^{Photo by Ramaz Bluashvili on Pexels.com}}

Years earlier, I had made Steve a promise that someday we would live in Phoenix.

I simply believed that “someday” was still twenty years away.

Life had other plans.

There is something almost impossible to reconcile about that.

A national tragedy that brought unimaginable grief to so many families also became one of the forces that redirected countless other lives.

Mine was one of them.

That does not lessen the tragedy.

If anything, it reminds me how far the consequences of a single day can travel.

A person can wake up believing they know exactly what tomorrow will look like.

Then the telephone rings.

A television screen changes.

A headline appears.

And suddenly the future takes a road no one had planned to travel.

That is what I remember most about September 11.

Not only the towers.

Not only the newsroom.

Not only the sound of the wire delivering one terrible update after another.

I remember how completely ordinary the morning had been just moments before.

And perhaps that is the lasting lesson.

We never really know which ordinary morning will become the dividing line between before and after.

So love the people around you.

Say what needs to be said.

Keep the promises that matter.

And never assume that because today began ordinarily, tomorrow is guaranteed to look the same.

Some mornings quietly become history.

Morning Coffee — For many some, dates pass quietly on the calendar this day may not do so.

September 11, 2026September 7, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

September 11, 2026

us flag on gray surface — _{^{Photo by Matthis Volquardsen on Pexels.com}}

September 11 does not.

For millions of Americans, and for people around the world, this date carries a scar that time has never completely erased. It reminds us where we were, what we saw, what we felt, and how quickly an ordinary morning became something unimaginable.

But beneath the history, the headlines, the smoke, the sirens, and the sorrow is another lesson that reaches into every home.

There are no guarantees when we say goodbye.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, thousands of people did what they had done countless mornings before.

They kissed a spouse goodbye.

They hugged a child.

They waved from a doorway.

They grabbed their coffee, headed for work, boarded an airplane, stepped into an office, answered an alarm, or began an ordinary shift.

Most of them had every reason to believe they would be home again that evening.

Some never were.

That may be one of the hardest truths September 11 leaves with us.

We often live as though there will always be another opportunity.

Another phone call.

Another dinner.

Another visit.

Another chance to say, “I love you.”

Another chance to apologize.

Another chance to linger at the door for just a few more seconds.

But life has never promised us that.

A person can leave our presence in the morning and, through circumstances completely beyond anyone’s control, be gone before nightfall.

September 11 reminds us not to take the people in our lives for granted.

It reminds us that the hurried goodbye deserves a little more care.

That the person sitting across from us at breakfast deserves our attention.

That the phone call from someone we love might be worth answering.

That anger sometimes deserves to be put aside before we walk out the door.

And that “I love you” is rarely something we should save for later.

This day also reminds us of those who ran toward danger while others were trying desperately to escape it.

Firefighters.

Police officers.

Paramedics.

Emergency workers.

Ordinary people who became extraordinary simply because someone else needed help.

Many knew the danger.

They went anyway.

Their courage remains part of the living legacy of September 11, along with the memories of every innocent life taken that morning.

So perhaps today’s coffee should be a little slower.

Perhaps we should sit with the people we love a little longer.

Make the call we have been putting off.

Forgive something that no longer deserves the space it occupies in our hearts.

And when someone we love walks out the door today, let our final words be words we would be at peace remembering.

Because none of us knows which goodbye will be the last.

September 11 taught us that lesson in the most painful way imaginable.

May we honor those who were lost not only by remembering how they died, but by remembering how important it is to cherish those who are still here.

This morning, hold your coffee close.

Hold your memories closer.

And hold the people you love closest of all.

We remember. We honor. And we never forget.

— Morning Coffee
benandsteve.com

There are mornings when the coffee tastes exactly the same as it did yesterday, but somehow the morning itself feels different.

September 10, 2026September 7, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Some of life’s most meaningful moments do not announce themselves when they arrive. They are found in familiar voices, quiet mornings, ordinary routines, and the people beside us. Sometimes the moments we barely notice today become the memories we treasure most tomorrow.

September 10, 2026

Maybe it is the light coming through the window. Maybe it is a memory that wandered in before we were fully awake. Or maybe it is simply one of those days when we notice the little things we usually hurry past.

That first warm cup in our hands.

man hand over vintage photograph in book — ^{_{Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com}}

The familiar chair.

The quiet hum of the house.

A dog stretching somewhere nearby.

The sound of the world beginning another day.

We spend so much of our lives looking ahead that we sometimes forget how much of life is actually built from ordinary moments. The grand occasions certainly matter, but they are surprisingly few. Most of our lives are made up of thousands of small mornings, simple conversations, familiar faces, and routines we rarely think twice about.

Until one day we miss them.

That is when we discover that ordinary never really meant unimportant.

Some of the things I remember most clearly from years gone by would have seemed completely insignificant at the time. A voice from another room. Someone sitting at the kitchen table. A familiar laugh. A car pulling into the driveway. Someone saying, “Come on, let’s go.”

Nothing dramatic.

Nothing anyone would have thought needed preserving.

Yet somehow those are the moments that remain.

Maybe that is something worth remembering this morning.

There may be something happening around you today that feels completely ordinary. You may not photograph it. You may never write about it. You probably will not even recognize its importance while it is happening.

But someday, it may become one of the moments you would give almost anything to experience once more.

So enjoy your coffee.

light man coffee cup — _{^{Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com}}

Listen to the voices around you.

Notice the people who share your day.

And whenever possible, linger just a little longer.

Because while we are busy waiting for the memorable moments of life to arrive, some of them are already happening right in front of us.

Have a wonderful morning, and may your coffee be warm, your memories be kind, and your ordinary moments become something worth remembering.

— Morning Coffee
benandsteve.com

There is something special about the few quiet minutes before the day begins asking things of us.

September 9, 2026September 5, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

Before the phone rings, the messages arrive, and the day begins asking things of us, there is a little quiet time to simply be. Sometimes the most ordinary parts of morning—the coffee, the familiar sounds of home, and a few peaceful minutes—are the moments worth noticing most.

September 9, 2026

~~~ ### ~~~

Before the phone rings.

asian men sitting on stairs with drinks — _{^{Photo by Handi Berty on Pexels.com}}

Before the messages start coming in.

Before somebody needs an answer.

Before the list of things we meant to do yesterday quietly becomes today’s list.

There is coffee.

And sometimes, that is enough.

I have come to appreciate those first few moments of the morning. The house is still finding its footing. The outside world hasn’t completely awakened yet, and for a little while, nobody expects anything from you.

You can simply sit.

Think.

Remember.

Or, if you are lucky, think about absolutely nothing at all.

That may be harder than it sounds.

We spend so much of our lives preparing for what comes next that we sometimes miss what is sitting directly in front of us.

The warmth of the cup in our hands.

The light beginning to slip through the window.

silhouette of man making coffee in kitchen — _{^{Photo by Smitha Nittur on Pexels.com}}

The familiar sounds of home.

A dog wandering through the room, checking to make sure breakfast hasn’t somehow been forgotten.

These little things rarely make the headlines of our lives.

But perhaps they should.

Because when we look back, it isn’t always the big accomplishments we miss the most.

Sometimes it is the kitchen table.

The old coffee cup.

The chair somebody used to sit in.

The sound of a familiar voice coming from another room.

Ordinary things have a strange way of becoming priceless once enough time has passed.

So before today gets busy, give yourself a few minutes.

Don’t rush the coffee.

Don’t rush the morning.

There will be plenty of time for everything else.

For now, sit where you are and notice what is still here.

There is more to be thankful for in an ordinary morning than we sometimes realize.

And maybe that is the real gift of morning coffee.

It doesn’t solve everything.

It simply gives us a quiet place to begin.

Have a great day from benandsteve.com — and may your coffee be warm, your morning peaceful, and your day give you at least one reason to smile.

Morning Coffee ––– Some mornings arrive quietly.

September 8, 2026September 5, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Not every day needs to be extraordinary to be meaningful. Sometimes the moments we barely notice—a warm cup of coffee, a familiar voice, or a quiet morning at home—become the memories we treasure most.

September 8, 2029

~~~ ### ~~~

No thunder. No grand announcement. No particular reason to believe the day will be remarkable.

cozy nighttime coffee shop street scene — _{^{Photo by Jinshu Pulpatta on Pexels.com}}

The coffee brews.

The sun comes up.

The house begins to stir.

And for a few minutes, life is simply allowed to be what it is.

I think we sometimes overlook those mornings because we are waiting for something bigger to happen.

We wait for the phone call.

The good news.

The bad news.

The answer we have been hoping for.

The problem we have been trying to solve.

But most of life doesn’t arrive with a trumpet.

Most of it slips quietly through the kitchen while we are standing there holding a coffee cup.

It is found in ordinary conversations.

A wave from a neighbor.

A dog waiting patiently by the door.

Someone remembering to ask how we are doing.

A familiar song playing somewhere in the background.

Those things don’t seem important at the time.

But years later, they often become the things we remember most.

Maybe that is because ordinary days give us room to notice.

When nothing dramatic is demanding our attention, we can see the smaller pieces of life that are usually hidden beneath the noise.

And there is something comforting in realizing that a day does not have to be extraordinary to be good.

Sometimes a good day is simply one where everybody made it home.

Where supper was eaten.

Where someone laughed.

Where the coffee was hot.

Where, for a little while, everything was all right.

So don’t be too quick to dismiss an ordinary morning.

There may be something happening today that you will someday wish you could experience one more time.

Sit with it awhile.

Drink the coffee before it gets cold.

Look around.

Listen.

And give today a little room to become a memory.

Have a great day from benandsteve.com — and may you find something worth remembering in the ordinary moments ahead.

Mesa Officer Hanging On Vehicle As It Crashes

September 7, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Man accused of fleeing DUI stop with officers in car, crashes into Mesa apartments https://www.azfamily.com/2026/09/07/man-accused-fleeing-dui-stop-with-officer-car-crashes-into-mesa-apartments/

Morning Coffee ––– There are mornings when the coffee seems heavier than usual.

September 7, 2026September 5, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

We carry more into each morning than the coffee in our cup. Memories, worries, laughter, and yesterday’s unfinished thoughts often come along with us. But a new morning gives us another chance to decide what is worth carrying forward—and what might finally be time to leave behind.

September 7, 2026

vintage scale in kitchen setting with retro design — _{^{Photo by Alexander Popadin on Pexels.com}}

But sometimes what we bring with us to the table gives it a little more weight.

Not the cup, of course. The cup weighs exactly what it did yesterday.

We carry yesterday into the morning.

A conversation we wish had gone differently. A worry we never quite put down before going to bed. A name we have been thinking about. A memory that wandered in without knocking and decided to stay awhile.

Then there are the things we carry that feel a little lighter.

A laugh from yesterday.

Someone checking in just because they were thinking about us.

A dog stretched out nearby, perfectly content with life as long as breakfast eventually appears.

A familiar chair.

A quiet house.

And that first dependable cup of coffee.

Maybe mornings aren’t really about starting over. Life doesn’t erase itself while we sleep. The bills are still there. The problems haven’t packed their bags and moved out during the night. That stubborn thing we were worrying about yesterday may still be sitting right where we left it.

But morning does give us another chance to decide how much of it we are going to carry.

Some things need our attention.

Some things need our patience.

And some things probably need to be left sitting beside the road somewhere behind us.

We are not required to drag every disappointment we have ever known into every new day.

That may be one of life’s quieter lessons.

We can remember without remaining stuck.

We can care without carrying everything.

We can miss someone and still smile.

We can have difficult days and still believe there are good ones ahead.

So this morning, while the coffee is still warm, take inventory of what you brought to the table.

Keep the memories that make you smile.

Hold close the people who matter.

Take care of the things that truly need tending.

And perhaps leave a little room in your hands for something new.

coffee cup in hand for breakfast — _{^{Photo by Berna on Pexels.com}}

Because you never know what this day may be waiting to give you.

Sometimes all we need is enough room to receive it.

Have a great day from benandsteve.com — and may your coffee be warm, your burdens a little lighter, and your day give you something worth carrying into tomorrow.

Ordinary Things – When Did We All Start Hopping?

September 6, 2026September 3, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

It Used To Be Please, Just Step Out of the Car”

September 6, 2026

For coffee this morning I am sharing a pet peeve that has been picking at me lately.

Nothing serious. Nothing that is going to keep me awake at night. But it does irk me.

SUV with open doors parked on a suburban street at dusk — ***“Come on, hop out of the car…I just want you to hop for me”***

It is this hopping thing.

Somewhere along the way, people began asking other grown adults to hop everywhere.

I notice it especially in police videos. It has leaked over into television comercials. And, I have heard waitresses refer to it, when seating people at restaurants. But, I mainly hear it those police videos.

An officer stops a vehicle, walks up to the driver and eventually says something like:

“Go ahead and hop out of the vehicle for me.”

Hop?

Have you ever actually seen a grown adult hop out of a car?

Outside of Easter, a sack race, or perhaps New Year’s Eve after somebody has had far too much to drink, I cannot remember seeing many adults hopping anywhere.

Yet law enforcement officers across the country now seem determined to get us hopping.

“Hop out for me.”

“Hop over here.”

“Hop in the back seat.”

Maybe that explains why some people in those YouTube videos refuse to get out of the car. Perhaps the instruction simply does not register.

Imagine a grown man appearing at your front door and saying:

“Sir, would you hop out onto the lawn for me?”

Would you?

I would probably stand there wondering exactly what kind of hop he had in mind.

Eventually, in some of these police videos, after several requests for the driver to “hop out,” patience disappears, a window gets broken, and the person is physically removed from the vehicle.

At that point, strangely enough, nobody is hopping.

Well, except perhaps the officers, who suddenly seem to be hopping around one another trying to get the person handcuffed.

Then comes the next instruction.

“Go ahead and hop into the back seat.”

Think about that for a moment.

The person is now handcuffed, standing beside a police car, possibly having just been dragged out of another automobile, and someone is asking them to hop into the back seat of a car driven by a complete stranger.

That requires considerably more coordination than I possess.

But the hopping is not finished.

Eventually they arrive at what officials may call a detention facility, processing center, correctional intake facility, or any number of impressive names.

Let us save some time.

It is jail.

The officers open the patrol-car door and what do you suppose comes next?

“Come on and hop out for me.”

Another hop.

Before the experience is finished, the poor person may have been asked to hop out, hop over, hop in, hop back out, and possibly hop onto a bench.

When exactly did hop become the standard instruction for grown adults?

What happened to:

“Please step out of the vehicle.”

“Step to the rear of the car.”

“Come back here and speak with me.”

Those instructions sound perfectly reasonable. More importantly, I know exactly what they mean.

There is another reason I think words matter.

Sometimes an officer is asking someone to step out of a vehicle because doing so may actually prevent a situation from becoming worse. A conversation beside the vehicle might clear something up. It might reveal information the driver needs to know. It might even keep that person from making another mistake that results in an additional charge.

Crime prevention, after all, is one of the most important parts of police work.

And preventing someone from turning one bad decision into three?

Well, that really is something worth hopping about.

Morining Coffee ––– One Cup at a Time: Finding Peace in an Ordinary Morning

September 5, 2026September 22, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

You don’t have to solve everything before the coffee cools. Some mornings are simply meant for taking life one task, one conversation, and one cup at a time.

Coffee cup, handwritten note reading “Morning Notes · Oct 28,” and folded linens — _{^{A steaming cup of coffee, handwritten notes, and folded linens create a peaceful morning scene. Groff Media2026©}}

There are mornings when the coffee seems to understand us better than we understand ourselves.

We sit down with a warm cup in our hands and a list already forming in our minds.

Things we need to do.

Things we should have done yesterday.

Things we are worried about tomorrow.

And before we have even taken the first good sip, we have managed to turn an ordinary morning into a meeting with every problem we have ever known.

I have learned something about mornings, though.

They were never meant to carry the weight of an entire lifetime.

Sometimes the best thing we can do is simply take care of what is directly in front of us.

Drink the coffee.

Feed the dog.

Answer the message.

Make the bed.

Call the person we have been meaning to call.

Step outside for a minute and notice that the sun came up again without asking us to supervise it.

There is a strange comfort in remembering that not everything requires our immediate attention.

Some problems need time.

Some answers haven’t arrived yet.

Some doors will open when they are ready.

And some things that feel terribly important this morning may not matter nearly as much by Friday.

We have a habit of wanting everything settled.

We want the question answered, the disagreement resolved, the bill paid, the project finished, the decision made and tomorrow neatly arranged before breakfast.

Life rarely cooperates.

It arrives one day at a time.

Maybe there is wisdom in learning to live the same way.

One day.

One conversation.

One responsibility.

One cup of coffee at a time.

There will always be unfinished business somewhere in our lives. There will always be something we wish we could change, something we are waiting for, and something we don’t completely understand.

That doesn’t mean today cannot still be a good day.

A good day doesn’t require a perfect life.

Sometimes a good day is simply one where we laughed once, helped somebody, accomplished one useful thing, ate something we enjoyed and made it home safely.

That may not sound extraordinary.

But after enough years have passed, we begin to understand that those ordinary days were the extraordinary ones.

So this morning, don’t demand too much from yourself before the coffee has even cooled.

You don’t have to solve everything today.

Just take care of today.

Tomorrow will bring its own cup.

Have a wonderful morning. May your coffee be warm, your worries be light, and may you find something good waiting for you somewhere along the way

Former players, colleagues remember Wayne Martin as mentor, ‘second father’

youtube https://www.wkyt.com/2026/09/03/former-players-colleagues-remember-wayne-martin-mentor-second-father

Morning Coffee — The Things We Carry Forward

September 4, 2026September 1, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

The ordinary moments of life often leave the deepest impressions. A familiar phrase, an old memory, or a simple act of kindness can become something we carry with us for years—and eventually pass along to someone else.

September 4, 2026

There is something comforting about the first cup of coffee in the morning.

Before the phone starts ringing, before the television begins telling us what happened while we slept, and before the responsibilities of the day start lining up at the door, there are those few quiet minutes when the world seems willing to wait.

I think we need those moments.

man in white crew neck t shirt holding a phone — _{^{Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com}}

This morning, as I sat with my coffee, I found myself thinking about how much of our lives we carry forward without even realizing it.

~~~

A phrase our father used to say.

A recipe our mother never bothered writing down because she simply knew how much of everything belonged in the bowl.

The way a grandparent waved from the porch.

The sound of an old screen door closing behind us.

The advice of a friend that didn’t seem particularly important when it was given, but somehow became wisdom twenty years later.

~~~

We spend so much of our lives believing we are moving forward and leaving yesterday behind.

But I don’t think that’s really how life works.

We carry yesterday with us.

Not all of it, thankfully. Time has a merciful way of softening some things and allowing others to fade. But the pieces that shaped us remain tucked away in places we don’t always recognize.

They appear when we catch ourselves saying something exactly the way one of our parents said it.

They show themselves when we perform some small kindness because once, long ago, someone did the same thing for us.

Sometimes they appear in the strangest places—a song on the radio, the smell of rain, an old photograph, or the sound of coffee being poured into a familiar cup.

And suddenly, someone or someplace we haven’t thought about in years is sitting right there beside us again.

Maybe that is one of life’s quieter gifts.

The people we have loved never completely leave the road we are traveling. They simply stop walking beside us in the way they once did.

Instead, they travel within us.

Their lessons become part of our decisions.

Their laughter becomes part of our memories.

Their kindness becomes something we pass along to somebody who may never know where it originally came from.

And eventually, pieces of us will travel the same way.

Someone will remember something we said.

Someone will tell one of our stories.

Someone might pour a cup of coffee one morning and smile because something reminded them of us.

That is why the ordinary moments matter so much.

We are always leaving something behind.

A word.

A kindness.

A story.

A memory.

So while you enjoy your coffee this morning, remember that the smallest things you do today may become something another person carries with them for years.

Make them worth carrying.

Have a wonderful morning, and may your coffee be warm, your memories gentle, and your day filled with something worth remembering.

Morning Coffee —The Days Don’t Have To BE Remarkable

September 2, 2026August 31, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

Most of life is not made up of remarkable days. It is built from quiet mornings, familiar routines, simple kindness, and ordinary moments we may not realize are precious until much later. September 2 is a reminder to notice them while they are still here.

September 2, 2026

Good morning.

brewing coffee in a dripper — _{^{Photo by Onur Kaya on Pexels.com}}

Pour yourself a cup and stay with me for a few minutes.

There is something rather ordinary about the second day of a month.

The first day gets all the attention.

September 1 arrives with a fresh page on the calendar. We talk about a new month, new beginnings, changing seasons, and all the things we hope to accomplish before another thirty days slip away.

Then September 2 shows up.

No fanfare.

No ribbon cutting.

Just another morning.

And maybe that is exactly why I like it.

Most of our lives are not lived on the first day of something.

They are lived on the second day.

And the third.

And the seventeenth.

They are lived on Tuesday mornings when the coffee tastes particularly good, when the dog wants outside five minutes after you sat down, when the laundry needs folding, the bills need paying, and somebody you care about sends you a message simply asking how you are doing.

Those are the days that eventually become a life.

We sometimes convince ourselves that a day must contain something important before it deserves to be remembered. A birthday. A wedding. A vacation. A promotion. Some great accomplishment.

But think about the memories you treasure most.

Chances are many of them began with absolutely nothing remarkable happening.

Someone sitting across the kitchen table.

A parent standing at the stove.

A friend stopping by unexpectedly.

A long conversation on the porch.

A familiar song playing from another room.

A cup of coffee shared before the rest of the world woke up.

At the time, nobody announced, “Pay attention. You’re going to miss this someday.”

We simply lived it.

Only later did we discover how valuable those ordinary moments had become.

Perhaps that is the lesson hiding inside September 2.

You do not have to accomplish something extraordinary today.

You do not have to change the world before supper.

You do not have to solve every problem that followed you into this morning.

Sometimes a successful day is much simpler.

Drink the coffee while it is warm.

Tell somebody you love them.

Laugh when the opportunity presents itself.

Notice the person who needs a little kindness.

Finish one thing you have been putting off.

And when evening comes, be thankful you were given another ordinary day in which to live.

Because someday, looking backward, you may discover there was nothing ordinary about it at all.

So here’s to September 2.

No parade.

No grand announcement.

Just another cup of coffee, another sunrise, and another opportunity to add one small piece to the story of our lives.

And sometimes, that is more than enough.

Have a great day from benandsteve.com, and remember—

Life is rarely built from the remarkable moments. It is built from the ordinary ones we were wise enough to notice.

Morning Coffee — The Things We Carry Forward

September 1, 2026August 31, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

We carry pieces of the people who have traveled through our lives — their lessons, laughter, kindness, and even their little habits. This morning’s coffee is about remembering what others left with us and considering what we might leave behind for someone else.

September 1, 2026

There is something comforting about the first cup of coffee in the morning.

_{^{Hanks Coffee Shop sign, 4th by libraryofcongress is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0}}

Before the telephone rings, before the television begins telling us what happened overnight, and before the world starts asking something from us, there are those few quiet moments when we can simply sit and think.

I have come to believe those moments are more valuable than we realize.

We spend much of our lives collecting things. Not necessarily possessions, but memories, lessons, sayings, habits, friendships, disappointments, victories, and even a few regrets.

Some of them we carry without realizing it.

A phrase our father used to say.

Something our mother taught us without ever sitting us down and calling it a lesson.

The way an old friend laughed.

A song that suddenly takes us back forty years.

The smell of coffee brewing in a kitchen that no longer exists.

Life has an interesting way of packing our suitcase for us.

By the time we reach a certain age, we discover that we are carrying pieces of nearly everyone who has traveled beside us.

And perhaps that is one of life’s greatest gifts.

People do not entirely leave us when they are gone.

They remain in the things they taught us, the stories we tell about them, the kindness they showed us, and sometimes even in those little irritating habits we swore we would never adopt — until one morning we catch ourselves doing exactly the same thing.

That is when you have to smile.

Because somehow, without noticing, yesterday has quietly found its way into today.

So as you enjoy your coffee this morning, think about the people who helped pack your suitcase.

Remember the ones who taught you something worthwhile.

And when the opportunity comes today, leave something good behind for someone else to carry.

A kind word.

A little patience.

A helping hand.

A good story.

Because years from now, when someone else is sitting quietly over their morning coffee, you just might be one of the memories that makes them smile.

And that wouldn’t be such a bad thing to leave behind.

Have a great day from benandsteve.com — and may there always be enough coffee for one more story.

☕ Morning Coffee ––– The Things We Don’t Notice

August 31, 2026August 29, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

Some of life’s most meaningful moments are the ones we barely notice while they are happening. This Morning Coffee is a reminder to appreciate the quiet, ordinary moments before they become the memories we miss most.

August 31, 2026

There are mornings when nothing remarkable happens.

The coffee brews. The house slowly wakes up. A dog stretches somewhere nearby. A car passes down the street. Maybe the sun finds its way through the blinds and lands across the floor in that familiar place it always seems to find.

man sitting by table and drinking from pitcher — _{^{Photo by Lucas Andrade on Pexels.com}} **Somedays you need a cup. Somedays, you need two. And, somedays you need the whole damn pot!**

Nothing extraordinary.

And yet, I have come to believe these may be some of the most important mornings we are given.

We spend so much of our lives waiting for something significant to happen. We look forward to birthdays, vacations, reunions, holidays, accomplishments and celebrations. We mark the big moments on calendars and take photographs so we will remember them.

But most of life happens somewhere in between.

It happens while we are standing at the kitchen counter waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

It happens during the quiet conversation across the breakfast table.

It happens when someone asks, “Did you sleep okay?”

It happens when the dog follows you from one room to another for absolutely no reason other than the fact that wherever you are seems to be where he wants to be.

These moments rarely announce themselves as important.

There is no music playing in the background.

Nobody takes a photograph.

There is no ceremony.

And yet someday, these may be the moments we miss the most.

I think that is one of the lessons age quietly teaches us. The ordinary days we once hurried through eventually become the memories we would gladly revisit.

The sound of someone laughing in another room.

A familiar chair sitting beside the window.

A favorite coffee cup.

Someone calling your name from the other end of the house.

Things that once seemed ordinary somehow become treasures after enough years have passed.

Maybe that is why I have learned to appreciate mornings like this one.

There is coffee in the cup.

There are people I care about somewhere in this world.

There are memories behind me and, God willing, a few more waiting ahead.

And for the moment, nothing particularly remarkable is happening.

Which, when you think about it, is something rather remarkable itself.

So this morning, while you drink your coffee, take a look around.

There may be something happening right now that someday you will give almost anything to experience one more time.

Sometimes the best parts of life are the ones we almost failed to notice.

Have a great day from benandsteve.com — and remember, ordinary moments have a way of becoming extraordinary memories.

Morning Coffee ––– When The Road Finally Grows Quiet

August 29, 2026August 27, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Coming home after a long journey does not always mean our hearts have caught up with us. Sometimes the ordinary things waiting at home—a cup of coffee, a familiar chair, a loved one nearby—remind us just how precious everyday life really is.

August 29, 2026

Good morning, my friends.

Pour yourself a cup of coffee and stay with me for a few minutes.

man walking on sidewalk with coffee in disposable cup — _{^{Photo by Drew Anderson on Pexels.com}}

There is something strange about coming home after a long journey.

You walk through the same door. You set your things down in familiar places. The coffee pot is sitting where you left it. The dog seems perfectly satisfied that everyone has finally returned to where they belong.

Everything looks normal.

But somehow, you aren’t quite the same person who walked out that door.

Over the past several days, Steve and I traveled roads filled with memories. We saw family, visited familiar places, said goodbye to my mother in Oklahoma, and then pointed ourselves west and began the long journey home.

Now the suitcases are being emptied.

The laundry is finding its way into the washing machine.

The mail is being sorted.

The refrigerator is reminding us that apparently groceries do not magically restock themselves while you’re gone.

And slowly, ordinary life begins again.

But I’ve been thinking about something this morning.

Maybe ordinary life doesn’t really begin again.

Maybe it simply waits for us.

The coffee cup waits in the cupboard.

The chair waits beside the table.

The neighbor still waves.

The morning sun still comes through the window at approximately the same angle it did before we left.

And somewhere in all those ordinary things is a quiet invitation:

Come back when you’re ready.

Grief and memory have their own timetable. They don’t care much about schedules, calendars, appointments, or the number of miles between Oklahoma and Arizona.

You can unpack the suitcase long before you’ve unpacked everything you carried home inside your heart.

And that’s all right.

There is no requirement that we immediately return to being exactly who we were before we left.

Life changes us.

Goodbyes change us.

Reunions change us.

Standing in a cemetery surrounded by people who cared enough to simply show up changes us.

And sometimes a long stretch of highway gives us enough quiet to realize just how much.

So this morning, I am not asking much from the day.

I have coffee.

I have Steve.

I have Otis nearby, undoubtedly supervising everything and making certain no suspicious delivery trucks invade the neighborhood.

And I have another morning.

For today, that is enough.

Perhaps that is one of the lessons we miss when life becomes too busy.

We spend so much time looking for the extraordinary that we forget how precious the ordinary really is.

A cup of coffee.

Someone sitting across the room.

A familiar voice.

A dog sleeping nearby.

A home waiting at the end of the road.

And another sunrise giving us one more opportunity to love the people around us a little better than we did yesterday.

The road has finally grown quiet.

And this morning, I think I’ll simply sit here for a while and listen to it.

Have a wonderful Friday, my friends.

Pour another cup if you need one.

Sometimes the best thing we can do after a long journey is remember how good it feels to be home.

Have a Great Day from benandsteve.com — and remember, sometimes the ordinary things waiting for us at home are among life’s greatest blessings.

☕ Morning Coffee ––– Look How Far You’ve Come

August 26, 2026August 20, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

We spend so much time looking at how far we have left to go that we sometimes forget the miles already behind us. This morning’s coffee is a reminder to turn around occasionally and appreciate just how far you’ve come.

August 26, 2026

Most mornings, we look ahead.

a person holding a plastic cup with drinking straw — _{^{Photo by Czapp Árpád on Pexels.com}}

We think about what needs to be done today, what is waiting for us tomorrow, and where we hope to be sometime down the road.

We don’t often turn around and look behind us.

Maybe we should.

There are roads you’ve already traveled that once frightened you.

There were problems you were certain you couldn’t solve.

There were nights you wondered how you would make it until morning.

There were changes you didn’t ask for, goodbyes you weren’t ready to say, and circumstances you never imagined would become part of your story.

Yet here you are.

Coffee in hand.

Another morning.

Still going.

We have a habit of measuring ourselves by how far we have left to go instead of recognizing how far we have already come.

It’s a little like climbing a hill while staring only at the top.

Every step reminds you that you aren’t there yet.

But turn around for a moment.

Look at the distance behind you.

Suddenly, those little steps don’t seem so little anymore.

Life is like that.

Growth rarely announces itself while it’s happening.

We simply get up each morning and keep going.

We learn.

We adjust.

We stumble.

We get back up.

And somewhere along the way, without realizing it, we become stronger than the person who first started down the road.

Maybe you’re not where you hoped you would be by now.

That’s all right.

Perhaps there are things you still want to accomplish, relationships you want to mend, places you want to see, or pieces of yourself you’re still trying to understand.

Keep going.

But every once in a while, turn around.

Remember the things you’ve survived.

Remember the lessons you’ve learned.

Remember the people you’ve loved and the people who loved you along the way.

Give yourself credit for the miles already traveled.

You earned every one of them.

Sometimes we need to stop asking, “How much farther?” and take a moment to say, “Look how far I’ve come.”

So this morning, before you hurry toward whatever is waiting ahead, sit with your coffee for another minute.

Look back down the road.

That person standing there in your memories had no idea whether they would make it this far.

But they did.

You did.

And today, the road continues.

Now, let’s have another cup before we get moving.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Morning Coffee — And Then Tuesday Came…

August 25, 2026August 13, 2026Benjamin2 Comments

Sometimes the best thing a morning can bring is absolutely nothing extraordinary. An ordinary Tuesday, a familiar chair, a dog underfoot, and a warm cup of coffee can remind us that the everyday moments are often the ones holding our lives together.

Morning Coffee — August 25, 2026

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026

August 25, 2026

There is something wonderfully dependable about an ordinary Tuesday.

elegant coffee mug with coffee beans on dark background — _{^{Photo by Nikhil Choudhary on Pexels.com}}

It doesn’t arrive with a marching band. There are usually no balloons tied to the mailbox, nobody sends you a card congratulating you for making it, and unless you’ve made special plans, Tuesday doesn’t expect very much from you.

It simply shows up.

And sometimes, that is exactly what we need.

This morning, the coffee pot doesn’t know where I’ve been. It doesn’t care how many miles I’ve traveled, what happened yesterday, or what might be waiting tomorrow.

Its job is remarkably simple.

Make coffee.

I appreciate that kind of dependability.

There are times in our lives when everything seems important. Every telephone call matters. Every appointment has to be remembered. Every mile has a destination, and every day on the calendar has something written beside it.

Then eventually, along comes an ordinary morning.

You wake up.

You shuffle toward the kitchen.

You put on the coffee.

Maybe the dog looks at you as though breakfast is already fifteen minutes late.

You look out the window and discover that the world managed to keep turning while you were asleep.

And suddenly the biggest decision facing you might be whether you want another cup.

Those ordinary mornings don’t receive enough credit.

We spend so much of our lives waiting for the big things—the vacation, the birthday, the reunion, the promotion, the holiday, the celebration—that we sometimes overlook the hundreds of perfectly ordinary days holding everything together.

But those are the days where most of life actually happens.

Tuesday morning coffee.

A familiar chair.

A dog underfoot.

Someone you love somewhere nearby.

A little sunlight coming through the window.

Nothing remarkable enough to make the evening news, but everything important enough to make a life.

Maybe that’s why I’ve grown to appreciate ordinary things so much.

They don’t demand anything from us.

They simply remind us that we’re still here.

There are chores to do today. There will probably be something that doesn’t go according to plan. Somebody somewhere will irritate us. Something will make us laugh. We’ll forget why we walked into a room at least once, and we’ll probably remember something important five minutes after we should have remembered it.

In other words, it should be a perfectly normal day.

And this morning, that sounds pretty good to me.

So here’s to Tuesday.

Here’s to the coffee pot doing exactly what it was designed to do.

Here’s to familiar faces, ordinary conversations, dogs who believe every day should revolve around them, and all those little moments we rarely recognize as blessings until someday we miss them.

You don’t need something extraordinary to happen today for today to matter.

Sometimes the ordinary day is the gift.

Pour yourself another cup.

Tuesday has arrived.

And that’s news enough for this morning.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Morning Coffee – When You Need A Post Funeral Cry…And It Involves Betty White!

August 24, 2026August 20, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

August 24, 2026

Today’s coffee is taking a slightly different route. Instead of our usual routine, let’s wander past the living room and settle at the kitchen table for a genuine, heart-to-heart chat.

When you’re preparing for a monumental life event—or carrying the weight of a major loss—it’s easy to get so consumed by the details that you completely forget to make room for yourself. But eventually, a quiet demand surfaces: you have to check in with your own soul.

Sometimes that moment looks like spilling your guts over coffee with a close friend. Other times, it’s shutting out the world to lose yourself in a book. Or maybe it’s that solitary drive where a single song hits the radio, hitting a hidden nerve and giving you permission to finally let the tears flow.

Grief isn’t a neat, linear line. We navigate through denial, anger, bargaining, blame, and eventually, acceptance. Along that winding road, sight and sound often act as our gentlest guides. A song can break through our defenses in an instant, but a powerful movie can do the exact same thing.

There have been times when I thought I had processed the death of a loved one, only to realize years later that watching a specific scene on screen was the final key to truly letting go. Which brings me to the real heart of this morning’s conversation.

The other day, one of my favorite writers posted a simple question: What was the last movie that made you cry?

It took me a millisecond to answer: The Lost Valentine, starring Betty White.

Even though it was made years before she passed away, I didn’t discover it until after her death, which made watching it even more emotional. It’s a classic Hallmark tearjerker, but as anyone who knows me will tell you, it takes a massive, deeply moving story to get me invested in a movie—let alone shed a tear.

If you’re in the mood for a genuine emotional breakdown, put down your phone, close your laptop, and give it a watch. If you aren’t reaching for the tissues like a church lady at a revival by the end, something is seriously wrong!

Here’s the trailer to get you primed: The Lost Valentine, starring Betty White

Morning Coffee —The Morning After

August 23, 2026August 12, 2026Benjamin2 Comments

The coffee is quieter this morning.

Yesterday, we buried my mother.

black and white photo of a man sitting at a table on a sidewalk — ^{_{Photo by Efe Ersoy on Pexels.com}}

After traveling hundreds of miles with us—from Arizona, through New Mexico and Texas, and finally into Oklahoma—we brought her to Binger.

Her last ride is over.

She rests beside my father now.

And this morning, life has done that peculiar thing it always does after a loss.

It continued.

The sun came up.

Someone started a car.

A dog needed attention.

Coffee had to be made.

The world didn’t stop simply because something monumental happened in mine.

Perhaps that is one of life’s quietest lessons.

We spend days preparing ourselves for the big moments—the service, the goodbye, the final prayer. But nobody prepares us quite as well for the morning afterward.

The morning when there is nowhere else we need to take them.

No arrangements left to make.

No more miles left to drive.

Just memories.

Yesterday, I stood in Oklahoma soil and helped return my mother to the place that had shaped so much of her life.

Today, I can begin carrying her differently.

Not in a special carrier.

Not buckled safely into the vehicle.

Not guarded faithfully by Otis.

I carry her in stories.

I carry her in the expressions I inherited without realizing it.

I carry her in memories of childhood, family gatherings, arguments, laughter, disappointments, forgiveness, and all those wonderfully complicated things that make a family a family.

Perhaps that’s what we eventually discover about saying goodbye.

The people we love don’t simply disappear down some road behind us.

They become part of the traveler.

And so this morning, I will have another cup of coffee.

Then Steve, Otis, and I will eventually point ourselves toward Arizona.

There will be an empty place in the vehicle where Mom rode with us.

But I don’t think she’s leaving Oklahoma alone.

A little bit of her will be going home with me.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Morning Coffee — August 22, 2026. We’re Taking Mom Home Today

August 22, 2026August 22, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Coffee is that wonderful drink that calms the soul—without calming you so much that you wake up the next morning with your best friend asking, “Do you remember what you did last night?”

Drink coffee. Lots of coffee. Your reputation may depend on it. ☕

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026

August 22, 2026

There are mornings when coffee is simply coffee.

And then there are mornings when you wrap both hands around the cup because you need something steady to hold.

This is one of those mornings.

Today, we are taking Mom home.

Before we reach Binger, I want her final journey to pass through some of the places that belong to our family’s story.

We will travel near Sentinel, Oklahoma, past the country where her parents made their home in the 1930s.

Then we will continue toward Cordell.

That’s where I was born.

I find something deeply meaningful about carrying my mother past the place where she once carried me. While raising my sister. Along with other other siblings.

Then we will travel east toward Binger.

There, at Binger Murray Cemetery, my mother will finally be laid to rest beside my father, JD Groff.

For so many years, they traveled through life together. They raised a family. They worked. They struggled. They laughed. They disagreed. They grew older.

Life wasn’t perfect.

Families seldom are.

rural canadian landscape with red farmhouse and wind turbines — _{^{Photo by Guriqbal Billing on Pexels.com}}

But their lives became part of ours, and whatever else can be said about the years behind us, one truth remains:

They were Mom and Dad.

Today, Steve will be beside me. Otis will have completed his special assignment. Family and friends will gather. Words will be spoken. Memories will be shared.

And eventually there will come a moment when there is nothing left for me to do except say goodbye.

Or perhaps not goodbye.

Maybe simply:

We got you here, Mom.

You’re home.

This morning’s coffee is for everyone who has ever had to make that final journey with someone they love.

Drink it slowly.

Remember them well.

And when the time comes, let them go with love.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Morning Coffee — Morning Coffee — August 21, 2026

August 21, 2026August 12, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

“We are remembering our mother over coffee this year. It is her first birthday since she has been gone—the first birthday we have not been able to celebrate with her. But we will celebrate her, remembering the life she lived and the memories she left behind.”

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026

August 21, 2026

This morning’s coffee tastes a little different.

We’re in Oklahoma.

^{_{Marjorie and her sister Opal Mae Burke}}

Yesterday, Steve and I carried my mother across the miles, with Otis faithfully keeping watch beside her. Somewhere along the way, the landscape began changing into something familiar.

Home.

It’s an interesting word, isn’t it?

We spend much of our lives deciding where home is. We move. We build lives elsewhere. We find people we love and create new homes with them. Yet there are places buried so deeply within us that merely seeing the countryside can awaken memories we didn’t realize were still there.

Today, Mom rests in Elk City.

It is a town woven into Steve’s and my story because this is where we met in 1982. We couldn’t have known then where the road ahead would take us.

And we certainly couldn’t have imagined that more than forty years later we would return together carrying my mother on the final miles of her journey.

Tomorrow will be different.

Tomorrow we will travel through country filled with family history.

We will take Mom near Sentinel, past the land where her parents made their home during the 1930s. We will continue toward Cordell, where my own story began, and then east toward Binger—the community where so much of our family’s life unfolded.

Tomorrow, my mother’s journey ends beside my father.

But not today.

Today is for remembering.

Today is for another cup of coffee, another Oklahoma morning, and the realization that sometimes going home isn’t about returning to a house.

Sometimes it is simply about returning to the people and places that made us who we are.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Morning Coffee — The Places That Hold Our Names

August 20, 2026August 19, 2026Benjamin2 Comments

Some places hold more than memories—they hold the names of people who helped make us who we are. This morning in Elk City, Oklahoma, Steve and I spend a little time with family, remember those who came before us, and reflect on the place where our story together began nearly forty-four years ago.

August 20, 2026

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026

There is something different about having your morning coffee in a place that already knows so much of your story.

This morning, Steve and I should be waking up in Elk City, Oklahoma.

Couple walking with a cat past an Oklahoma farm at sunset — A couple walks home along a farm road as the sun sets over rural Oklahoma.

We thought yesterday’s miles would be behind us for a little while. Mom would have made the journey with us from Arizona, across New Mexico and Texas, and back into Oklahoma, with Otis faithfully carrying out his special assignment of watching over her along the way. Today, however, we aren’t quite there yet. We stopped in Tucumcari—the roadside signs finally got us. Tucumcari tonight! If you’ve ever traveled Route 66 or Interstate 40, you know what I am talking about. We thought we would give Mother one more night in a Best Western.

Today we will hurry on our way just as soon as Steve reloads the car so the weight is properly distributed. If you have seen those television advertisements about “becoming your parents,” they are so true—especially when I watch the things my husband does!

My sister Twila will be waiting for us, along with my niece Amanda, her son Trysen, and other family members and friends. I sent a message last night saying we were on our way, and that the reason for arriving a day behind schedule was “due to our late mother.” I don’t know if they picked up on the play on words. It was what my dad claimed anytime we were late to a family function, and I was hoping someone would catch it.

Some of these family members we haven’t seen in a while. There will undoubtedly be stories told that everyone has heard before—and hopefully a few that somebody has forgotten.

Those are usually the best ones.

Once we arrive, we will probably be escorted through local cemeteries. I know that might sound like a strange way to spend part of a day, but I have never thought of cemeteries as entirely sad places. There is sadness there, certainly. But there is also history.

There are names carved into stones that once belonged to voices. There are dates representing entire lifetimes squeezed between a beginning and an ending. Behind those names are people who worked, worried, laughed, argued, raised families, paid bills, celebrated birthdays, sat around kitchen tables—and probably drank their share of morning coffee.

Some of those names belong to people we loved.

Years ago, Steve and I began our life together here in Elk City. In October of 1982, neither of us could possibly have known just how long the road ahead would be. We couldn’t have imagined all the places it would take us, the people we would meet, the homes we would make, or the memories we would collect. Yet here we are, nearly forty-four years later, back where so much of our story began.

And someday, when our travels are finally finished, this is where we have arranged to return. Steve and I have made arrangements to be laid to rest here in Elk City, so while we’re in town, we’ll check on our cemetery plots and make sure everything is squared away with the cemetery authorities.

That isn’t something I find particularly gloomy. Actually, I find a certain peace in it.

There is something comforting about knowing where the road eventually leads—not because you’re anxious to reach the destination, but because it allows you to spend less time worrying about the ending and more time enjoying everything between here and there. And Steve and I still have plenty of road ahead of us.

For now, there are people to visit. There are stories to tell. There are graves where we may stand quietly for a moment and remember. And there is my mother, traveling with us toward the place where, in two days, she will finally be laid beside my father.

Perhaps that is what today is really about. Coming home. Mom is coming home.

Steve and I have come back to the town where our life together began, surrounded by generations of people whose lives helped make ours possible.

This morning, I’ll raise my coffee cup to all of them—the ones sitting around the table with us and the ones whose chairs have been empty for many years. Because family isn’t measured only by who can still answer when you call their name. Sometimes family is measured by the names we refuse to forget.

And maybe that’s one of the reasons we visit old cemeteries. We aren’t visiting death. We’re visiting lives.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II

Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Morning Coffee — The Last Ride.

August 19, 2026August 12, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

There are times in ones life, when going home is all about visiting relatives. Then there are times when, going home is all about taking what is left of life back with you.

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026

August 19, 2026

There are some journeys in life you know you will remember every mile of.

This morning, Steve and I are carrying my mother home. She will be going to see her daughter Twila.

Her name is Marjorie Bernice Groff, and after 95 years of living, loving, raising a family, making mistakes, making memories, and leaving pieces of herself in all of us, she is taking one final ride from Arizona to Oklahoma.

_{^{[Left to Right: Marjorie Bernice (McWhirter) Groff, with her parents G.W.(Bill) McWhirter, and Bernice Mae McWhirter}}]

And we’re not hurrying.

Her special carrier is safely buckled beside our trustworthy little traveling companion, Otis. He has been given an important assignment for this trip: protect Grandma.

I have no doubt he takes the responsibility seriously.

We will cross Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, and finally enter Oklahoma. Along the way, when there is something worth seeing, we’ll make sure Mom gets to see it. An overlook, a beautiful stretch of country, an unusual roadside attraction—whatever catches our attention.

After all, when you’re taking your mother on her last road trip, there is no reason to rush.

Maybe that sounds a little unusual to some people. But grief has taught me that ceremony doesn’t always have to happen inside a church or beside a grave. Sometimes ceremony is simply two people, a little dog, an open highway, and someone precious riding beside you.

Tonight, we will reach Elk City, Oklahoma.

That seems especially fitting.

It was there, in 1982, that Steve and I first met. More than four decades later, the two of us will arrive there together carrying my mother home.

Life has a strange way of bringing roads back around to where they began.

So this morning’s coffee is going into a travel mug.

There are miles ahead of us.

Mom has one last Oklahoma sunset waiting for her.

And Otis has Grandma to protect.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

☕ Morning Coffee ––– You May Be Someone’s Good Memory

August 18, 2026August 12, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

There are probably people carrying a good memory of something you did long ago, even though you’ve forgotten all about it. This morning’s coffee is a reminder that the smallest kindness can become part of someone else’s story.

August 18, 2026

a cup of coffee with a smiley face drawn on it — ^{_{Photo by Ersan Yılmaz on Pexels.com}}

There are people from years ago whom I still remember for the smallest reasons.

They didn’t save my life.

They didn’t give me some great piece of wisdom.

They may not even remember me.

But I remember them.

I remember the person who took an extra moment to explain something when I didn’t understand.

The person who laughed with me when I needed to laugh.

The person who noticed I was having a difficult day and asked, “Are you doing okay?”

The person who poured another cup of coffee without being asked.

Funny, isn’t it?

We often think we have to do something extraordinary to make a difference in somebody’s life.

Most of the time, we don’t.

Sometimes we are remembered simply because we were kind when kindness was needed.

There are probably people walking around today carrying a memory of something you once did for them.

You may have forgotten it completely.

They haven’t.

Maybe you encouraged someone when they were ready to quit.

Maybe you sat beside somebody who didn’t want to be alone.

Maybe you made a child laugh.

Maybe you told someone they were doing a good job when nobody else bothered to notice.

To you, it may have been nothing more than an ordinary moment.

To them, it became part of their story.

That’s something worth thinking about over coffee this morning.

We spend a lot of time wondering what people think of us.

Perhaps a better question is:

How do people feel after they’ve been around us?

Do they leave feeling a little better?

A little more hopeful?

A little less alone?

Because long after people forget what we wore, what we owned, or how important we thought we were, they often remember how we treated them.

And someday, years from now, someone may be sitting at their own kitchen table with a cup of coffee remembering you.

Not because you did something remarkable.

But because, on an ordinary day when they needed it, you were kind.

Never underestimate the possibility that one small kindness from you may become someone else’s lifelong memory.

So today, give somebody something good to remember.

It doesn’t have to cost a thing.

A smile will do.

A kind word will do.

Taking a moment to listen will do.

Sometimes the smallest things stay with us the longest.

Now, how about another cup?

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

☕ Morning Coffee ––– Leave a Little Room for Something Good

August 17, 2026August 12, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

Don’t decide how the day will end before it has even begun. This morning’s coffee is a reminder to move yesterday’s worries over and leave a little room at the table for something good.

August 17, 2026

We sometimes wake up already expecting trouble.

guests at the restaurant tables — _{^{Photo by Joaquin Carfagna on Pexels.com}}

Before our feet touch the floor, we are thinking about yesterday’s problems, today’s responsibilities, and tomorrow’s worries.

Then we pour the coffee and carry all of them to the table with us.

That is quite a crowd for so early in the morning.

I wonder how many good things we miss because we have already decided what kind of day we are going to have.

We tell ourselves the meeting will be difficult.

The person won’t call.

The answer will be no.

Traffic will be terrible.

Something will probably go wrong.

And sometimes we’re right.

But not always.

Every now and then, life surprises us.

The telephone rings, and it is someone we have been thinking about.

A stranger holds the door and smiles.

Someone says something kind when we need to hear it most.

A problem we have worried about for days works itself out with surprisingly little trouble.

Or maybe nothing dramatic happens at all.

Maybe the sun simply comes through the kitchen window at just the right angle, the coffee tastes especially good, and for a few minutes everything feels all right with the world.

Those little moments count too.

We cannot control everything waiting for us today. There will always be things we would rather avoid and circumstances we cannot change.

But we can leave a little room for the possibility that something good might happen.

Hope doesn’t require us to pretend that difficulties don’t exist.

It simply asks us not to decide the ending before the day has had a chance to begin.

So while you’re sitting there with your coffee this morning, move yesterday’s worries over just a little bit.

You don’t have to throw them away.

Just don’t give them the whole table.

Save an empty chair for something unexpected.

Leave a little room for laughter.

Leave a little room for kindness.

Leave a little room for somebody to surprise you.

And most of all, leave a little room for something good.

Because this day hasn’t happened before.

You don’t know everything it is bringing with it.

Don’t let yesterday convince you that you already know how today will end.

Now take another sip.

Morning has only just arrived.

Let’s give it a chance.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

☕ Morning Coffee – Some Mornings Are Meant to Be Ordinary

August 16, 2026August 12, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Not every morning needs to be extraordinary. Sometimes the quiet, ordinary moments—the warm coffee, familiar voices, and people nearby—are the ones we eventually miss the most. Come sit for a while. The coffee is ready…

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026

August 16, 2026

Not every morning arrives carrying a lesson.

charming cafe conversation in scenic european town — _{^{Photo by Serge Hulne on Pexels.com}}

Sometimes morning is simply morning.

The coffee is brewing. The house is quiet. Somewhere outside, a bird is carrying on a conversation with another bird that apparently has a great deal to say.

And nothing particularly important is happening.

We have become so accustomed to looking for significance that we sometimes overlook the beauty of an ordinary day.

We celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, graduations, promotions, and all those other days we circle on the calendar. We take photographs. We gather people together. We remember them years later.

But when we look back on our lives, something interesting happens.

We begin missing the ordinary days too.

We remember sitting at the kitchen table while someone we loved stood at the counter.

We remember hearing their footsteps coming down the hallway.

We remember the sound of the screen door closing.

We remember someone asking, “Want another cup?”

At the time, none of it seemed important enough to remember.

Yet somehow we did.

Maybe that is because a life isn’t made mostly from extraordinary moments.

It is made from thousands upon thousands of ordinary ones.

The morning somebody handed you a cup of coffee.

The afternoon you sat on the porch doing absolutely nothing.

The evening everyone was home and nobody realized how precious that would someday become.

We didn’t know we were making memories.

We thought we were simply living.

Perhaps that is something worth remembering this morning.

You don’t have to accomplish something remarkable today for today to matter.

You don’t need a celebration.

You don’t need an announcement.

You don’t even need a particularly good story to tell when the day is finished.

Sometimes it is enough that the people you care about are nearby, the coffee is warm, and another morning has found its way to your door.

So don’t hurry through all of it.

Take an extra sip.

Listen to the sounds around you.

Notice who’s sitting across the table.

Someday you may discover that the mornings you once thought were ordinary were some of the most precious mornings you ever had.

The ordinary moments of today may become the treasured memories of tomorrow.

And that seems like a pretty good reason to pour another cup.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

☕ Morning Coffee ––– The Detour May Be the Better Road

August 15, 2026August 12, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Not every road we travel is one we planned to take. Sometimes the detour introduces us to people, places, and possibilities we would have otherwise missed. Grab your coffee—we’re taking the scenic route this morning.

August 15, 2026

Most of us begin the day with some idea of how we expect it to go.

men sitting beside a brick wall having coffee — ^{_{Photo by Daniel Nouri on Pexels.com}}

We know where we need to be, what needs to get done, and perhaps even what time we hope to have everything finished.

Then life puts up a detour sign.

Something changes.

A telephone call comes. Someone needs us. The car won’t start. The appointment runs late. A plan we were counting on falls apart. Suddenly, the road we expected to travel is closed, and we are headed somewhere we never intended to go.

I have traveled enough country roads in my life to know that detours can be frustrating.

But I have also discovered something else about them.

Sometimes the road you didn’t intend to travel shows you something you would never have seen otherwise.

You notice an old farmhouse sitting beneath a grove of trees. You cross a creek you didn’t know existed. You find a little town you have never visited. Maybe you meet someone you would never have met had everything gone according to plan.

Life works much the same way.

Some of the people who become important to us arrive because something else didn’t work out. Some of our greatest opportunities begin with disappointment. Some of the stories we eventually treasure started on days when we thought everything was going wrong.

That doesn’t mean every detour is pleasant.

Some are difficult. Some hurt. Some take us a long way from where we thought we would be.

But getting somewhere differently doesn’t always mean we are lost.

So, as you have your coffee this morning, perhaps there is something in your life that hasn’t gone according to plan.

You may be staring at a detour sign right now, wondering why the road ahead had to change.

Give it a little time.

Keep going.

Look out the window along the way.

There may be something waiting on this road that you could never have found on the one you originally planned to travel.

Sometimes the unexpected road becomes the one that takes us exactly where we needed to go.

Pour yourself another cup.

We’ve still got some traveling to do.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

☕ Morning Coffee – Not Everything Needs to Be Finished Today

August 14, 2026August 12, 2026Benjamin3 Comments

We spend so much time trying to finish everything that we sometimes forget to appreciate simply moving forward. Grab your cup. This morning, one small step is enough.

August 14, 2026

There is something about morning that makes us believe we ought to have a plan.

people walking down a street with sun shining through trees — ^{_{Photo by Rendi iD on Pexels.com}}

We pour the coffee, look at the day ahead, and begin making a list in our minds. Things that need doing. People who need calling. Problems that need solving. Yesterday’s unfinished business somehow finds its way onto today’s kitchen table before we have even taken the first sip.

But maybe everything doesn’t need to be finished today.

Some things simply take time.

I think back to the way people once approached ordinary work. A garden wasn’t planted in the morning and harvested that afternoon. A fence was built one post at a time. A long trip was measured in miles traveled, not merely by how quickly you reached the destination.

There was an understanding that worthwhile things often required patience.

We sometimes forget that when it comes to ourselves.

We expect answers immediately. We want worries settled, grief healed, relationships repaired, and uncertainty resolved before bedtime. When that doesn’t happen, we can feel as though we somehow failed the day.

But perhaps today’s accomplishment is simply moving one step forward.

Maybe you make the telephone call.

Maybe you write the first paragraph.

Maybe you forgive a little.

Maybe you worry a little less.

Maybe you finally sit quietly for ten minutes with a cup of coffee and realize the world managed to keep turning without your supervision.

There will always be something left undone when evening comes. That isn’t failure. That is life reminding us there is another day waiting.

So this morning, don’t measure your day by everything you manage to finish.

Measure it by whether you moved something worthwhile a little farther down the road.

And if all you manage today is one small step, remember:

A small step forward is still farther than you were yesterday.

Pour yourself another cup.

Tomorrow will have its own list.

For now, this morning is enough.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Excerpt

Not everything needs to be finished today. Some things simply take time. This morning’s coffee is a reminder that one small step forward can be enough.

☕ Morning Coffee ––– What If Today Is Enough?

August 13, 2026August 12, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026

August 13, 2026

Good morning, my friends.

Pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit with me for a few minutes.

cup of coffee on plate — _{^{Photo by Oğuzhan Karataş on Pexels.com}}

We spend a lot of time thinking about what comes next. Tomorrow’s plans. Next week’s worries. The things we still need to accomplish and the places we hope someday to go.

But what if, just for this morning, today is enough?

What if the cup of coffee in your hand is enough to enjoy without thinking about the next one? What if the people around you are enough to appreciate without waiting for a special occasion to tell them so? What if this ordinary Wednesday deserves to be enjoyed simply because we are here to experience it?

Not every day needs to become a milestone.

Some days are meant to be lived quietly—watering the flowers, calling an old friend, laughing at something silly, watching the sun move across the room, or sitting for another five minutes with a cup of coffee that has probably already gone cold.

There is a lot of life tucked inside those little moments.

So don’t ask too much of today. Give it your best, appreciate what it offers, and let that be enough.

You don’t have to make today extraordinary. Just be present for it. Sometimes that is what makes a day extraordinary after all.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

☕ Morning Coffee – Before You Hurry Past It

August 12, 2026August 11, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

August 12, 2026

Good morning, my friends.

fresh espresso flowing into white mug — ^{_{Photo by mehmetography on Pexels.com}}

Before the day gets busy, pour yourself a cup of coffee and stay here for just a moment.

We spend a surprising amount of our lives waiting for something. We wait for Friday, for vacation, for better weather, for the next celebration, or for the day when things finally settle down.

Meanwhile, life keeps happening.

It is happening in the coffee you’re holding. In the morning light coming through the window. In the familiar voice from the other room. In the dog waiting patiently for you to notice him. In the ordinary little routines we sometimes hurry through without realizing how precious they are.

Years from now, some of the things we barely notice today may be the very things we would give anything to experience once more.

So don’t rush through all of today trying to reach tomorrow.

Drink the coffee while it’s warm. Listen to the story you’ve heard a hundred times. Say “I love you.” Stay an extra minute when your heart tells you to stay.

There will always be somewhere else to go.

But there will never be another today.

Take a little time to notice your life while you’re living it. You may discover that an ordinary Tuesday was something pretty wonderful after all.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

☕ Morning Coffee

Before You Hurry Past It

Good morning, my friends.

Before the day gets busy, pour yourself a cup of coffee and stay here for just a moment.

We spend a surprising amount of our lives waiting for something. We wait for Friday, for vacation, for better weather, for the next celebration, or for the day when things finally settle down.

Meanwhile, life keeps happening.

Years from now, some of the things we barely notice today may be the very things we would give anything to experience once more.

So don’t rush through all of today trying to reach tomorrow.

Drink the coffee while it’s warm. Listen to the story you’ve heard a hundred times. Say “I love you.” Stay an extra minute when your heart tells you to stay.

There will always be somewhere else to go.

But there will never be another today.

Take a little time to notice your life while you’re living it. You may discover that an ordinary Tuesday was something pretty wonderful after all.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong. The coffee will be waiting again tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be here to share it with me.

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Ordinary Things – Chapter Three: Part Six

August 4, 2026August 3, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2026

August 4th, 2026

The Coffee Pot Carries More Than Coffee

The old coffee pot had learned something after all these years.

People rarely gathered around it because they needed coffee.

They gathered because they needed each other.

Morning after morning, the familiar aroma drifted through the house, inviting everyone to slow down for just a little while. Before the first sip was taken, there were stories waiting to be told, questions waiting to be asked, and worries waiting to be shared.

The Coffee Pot Remembers — **As you cradle your cup of coffee, remember that life is built more by ordinary mornings than extraordinary moments.**

The coffee pot listened to them all.

It heard fathers wondering how they would provide for their families.

It heard mothers quietly carrying burdens they never wanted their children to see.

It heard young couples dreaming about homes they hoped to build, and grandparents smiling as they watched another generation begin its journey.

The coffee pot offered no advice.

It couldn’t solve a single problem.

But it noticed something remarkable.

When people gathered around the table with warm cups in their hands, life somehow became a little easier to carry.

Troubles didn’t disappear.

They simply became lighter because they were shared.

Over the years, the coffee pot witnessed tears that no one expected, laughter that filled the kitchen until everyone forgot what had been troubling them, and prayers whispered before the day began.

It watched empty chairs become full again with new faces, and full tables slowly grow quieter as time moved on.

The old coffee pot came to understand that its greatest purpose had never been making coffee.

Its purpose was creating a place where people felt welcome enough to stay.

Maybe that’s why coffee has always tasted a little better when someone else is sitting across the table.

It isn’t the coffee that warms us the most.

It’s the company.

Tomorrow morning, before you hurry off to whatever the day has planned, linger just a little longer.

Someone may need your conversation more than they need another cup of coffee.

Sometimes the greatest gift we can offer another person is simply our presence.

And the old coffee pot has known that all along.