When the Campaign Ad Fails the Fact Check

October 13, 2026October 13, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Documented errors & misleading claims in Republican advertising show why political loyalty should never replace verification. Yet, do Democratic advertisings fare any better?

October 14, 2026

An ominous voice. An unflattering photograph. A frightening accusation. Thirty seconds later, the commercial ends—and the impression remains.

But what happens when the photograph shows the wrong person? When an accusation leaves out the timeline? When the study cited in small print does not examine the policy the candidate actually supports?

Those questions deserve attention before the next campaign commercial tells us what to believe.

A political debate scene with a heated exchange between two candidates at podiums, one man accusing the woman of being a 'porker,' while she sarcastically responds, surrounded by an engaged audience. — _{^{Who’s cheating whom? Who’s being true? The accusations fly, the crowd takes sides, and somewhere in the shouting, the truth gets drowned out.
Folks, when we care more about who wins the argument than whether the accusation is true, we’re the ones being fooled.}}

Recent reporting by KJZZ and FactCheck.org documents factual errors and misleading presentations in Republican and Republican-aligned advertising across several states. Some involve outright inaccuracies. Others take genuine statements or events and leave out facts necessary to understand them.

These examples do not establish what candidates privately expected voters to believe or whether they anticipated voters checking their claims. My interpretation is that this kind of advertising gains an advantage when viewers accept its message without examining the evidence.

That is a temptation we should recognize in ourselves. When an accusation fits what we already believe about the other party, it can feel convincing before we have checked a single fact.

In Arizona, an attack ad supporting Republican Rep. Eli Crane targeted Democratic challenger Jonathan Nez. Yet the No Going Back PAC commercial twice displayed photographs of Myron Lizer, Nez’s former vice president—not Nez himself. Lizer is a Republican and Trump supporter.

KJZZ reported the error on October 10 and noted that the images were corrected. That correction matters. So does the fact that an advertisement seeking to discredit a candidate initially failed to identify him correctly. This reporting establishes the photograph error; it does not independently resolve the ad’s underlying spending allegation.

In North Carolina, No Going Back PAC accused Democratic Senate candidate Roy Cooper of allowing approximately 16,000 rape kits to remain untested.

The backlog was real. The presentation of responsibility was misleading.

FactCheck.org reported that the kits were held by hundreds of local law enforcement agencies and had not been submitted to the state laboratory Cooper oversaw as attorney general. A later statewide inventory established the extent of the problem. That leaves room to question whether officials at multiple levels should have done more. It does not justify presenting the evidence as though Cooper personally controlled thousands of kits awaiting testing.

The same advertisement connected Cooper’s pandemic prison settlement to a convicted sex offender who later committed murder. But Jimmie Speight Jr. had completed his prison term before the settlement. His subsequent reinstatement to post-release supervision counted under the agreement, explaining his appearance on its list.

That distinction changes the story. An advertisement about public safety owes voters an accurate timeline, especially when it uses a horrifying crime to assign political blame.

In Pennsylvania and Texas, hospital-closure warnings provided another example.

Congressional Leadership Fund attacked Democrat Janelle Stelson in Pennsylvania’s 10th District with a claim involving up to 25 rural hospital closures. MAGA Inc. attacked Texas Senate candidate James Talarico with a warning involving 30 hospitals.

Both relied on a study assuming a public insurance option would reimburse hospitals at existing Medicare rates. FactCheck.org found that neither candidate had proposed that specific design; Talarico expressly supported higher reimbursement rates.

A study can be real while its use in an advertisement is misleading. Citing research does not establish that its assumptions match the candidate’s proposal.

In Michigan, an NRSC advertisement alleged that Democratic Senate candidate Abdul El-Sayed had advocated abolishing prisons. FactCheck.org found that he had not.

Other attacks drew on genuine earlier statements about shifting police resources and reviewing prison sentences. Those positions are legitimate subjects for scrutiny. But voters also deserve their context and an accurate account of his current platform, which includes investment in law enforcement recruitment, retention and retirement.

These are specific failures by identifiable advertisers. Several ads came from outside political groups, so responsibility should be assigned to the sponsors rather than automatically to the candidates who benefited.

The criticism is straightforward: get the person right, preserve the timeline, represent the proposal accurately, and let the evidence support the accusation.

A party label cannot do that work.

Folks, the commercial that deserves our closest attention may be the one we find easiest to believe. Before repeating it, ask who paid for it, whether the original source says what the advertiser claims, and what information disappeared between the source and the screen.

We do not have to abandon our political convictions to demand honest advertising. We have to insist that those convictions survive contact with the facts.

The Fact Check Cannot Stop at Democratic Party

Democratic campaign advertising deserves the same scrutiny as Republican advertising—and recent examples show why.

It is easy to spot a questionable campaign commercial when it attacks someone we support. The harder test comes when it attacks someone we oppose.

A woman examines documents with a magnifying glass while taking notes, with a laptop displaying a political debate in the background. Papers and a coffee cup are on the table. — _{^{The Fact Checkers Never Stop}}

That is when a frightening accusation can feel like confirmation. We recognize the party label, agree with the message, and move on without checking what was left out.

But an advertisement does not become accurate because it comes from our preferred side.

Recent investigations by FactCheck.org and PolitiFact identify false or misleading claims in advertisements from Democratic candidates and Democratic-aligned organizations in Maine, Iowa, Georgia, Texas and Ohio. The problems vary: an accusation contradicted by the record, a quotation stripped of context, a procedural vote presented without a later substantive vote, or a projection delivered without its qualifications.

These examples do not tell us what candidates privately expected voters to believe. My interpretation is that such advertising benefits when viewers accept a message that fits their political loyalties without examining its evidence.

In Maine, WinSenate, a super PAC supporting Democratic Senate candidates, accused Republican Sen. Susan Collins of helping conceal the Jeffrey Epstein files.

Collins did oppose an amendment attached to a defense bill. That is a real vote and a legitimate subject for criticism. But she subsequently supported the standalone disclosure legislation that passed the Senate by unanimous consent in November 2025.

FactCheck.org found that the advertisements misleadingly presented her record by leaving out that later support.

One ad also characterized a major donor to a pro-Collins super PAC as Epstein’s business partner. Its basis was that Stephen Schwarzman and Epstein were among the founding members of the same private club. That does not, by itself, establish the close business relationship the description suggests.

An advertiser owes voters more than an alarming name and an insinuation.

A separate Maine advertisement from Majority Forward claimed Collins did not believe insider trading should be illegal.

FactCheck.org found that claim false. Collins helped write and pass the 2012 STOCK Act, which affirmed that members of Congress are subject to insider-trading prohibitions.

She opposed a complete congressional stock-trading ban. Critics can challenge that position and the adequacy of existing enforcement. But opposing a blanket trading ban is different from supporting illegal insider trading.

The advertisement blurred that distinction to turn a policy disagreement into a more damaging accusation.

In Iowa, WinSenate attacked Republican Senate candidate Ashley Hinson over the Epstein files.

Hinson had opposed procedural efforts related to disclosure. Yet she voted for the Epstein Files Transparency Act in November 2025, when it passed the House 427–1.

PolitiFact rated the claim that she voted against releasing the files Mostly False because the advertisement omitted her later vote for release.

The advertising also emphasized donors whose names appeared in the files. A name appearing in those records does not, on its own, demonstrate wrongdoing or a close relationship with Epstein.

Voters deserve the complete voting record and evidence proportionate to the accusation.

In Georgia, Democratic Sen. Jon Ossoff’s television ads used a shortened recording of Republican challenger Mike Collins discussing Social Security and returning to the workforce.

The advertisements framed his remarks as a threat to retirees. But PolitiFact found that the full interview concerned making work more financially advantageous through lower taxes. Collins had not instructed retirees to surrender their benefits and get jobs.

There are substantive reasons to examine his policies: he supported measures that experts warned could threaten future benefits. Those concerns deserve accurate discussion.

They do not justify editing a quotation into a message its speaker did not deliver. PolitiFact rated the advertisement’s combined claim Mostly False.

In Texas, Democratic Senate candidate James Talarico’s campaign said Republican Ken Paxton voted to protect puppy abusers.

The underlying vote concerned a 2011 bill increasing the bond required when someone appealed a civil court’s finding of animal cruelty. The measure did not increase penalties for animal abuse itself.

Paxton did not explain his opposition. Other opponents raised concerns about procedural fairness and the cost of appeals.

PolitiFact rated Talarico’s claim Mostly False. A vote about appeal requirements can be criticized on its merits. It does not establish that the lawmaker intended to protect animal abusers.

Ohio supplies a more qualified example.

Democratic Senate candidate Sherrod Brown’s advertisement said Republican Sen. Jon Husted voted to remove 490,000 Ohioans from their healthcare coverage.

PolitiFact found the number broadly consistent with credible estimates of losses from Medicaid changes and the expiration of enhanced Affordable Care Act subsidies. But it was a projection over ten years, subject to implementation and other uncertainties—not a completed count of people already losing insurance.

Husted’s record also included a later proposal to extend the subsidies.

The claim received a Half True rating. It should not be lumped together with an invented accusation. The criticism here concerns missing qualifications and the presentation of uncertainty.

These findings establish specific advertising failures. They do not measure which party misleads more often, and they do not make every claim equally wrong.

Responsibility also matters. Ads purchased by WinSenate or Majority Forward should be attributed to those organizations rather than automatically to the Democratic candidates who might benefit.

The standard should remain consistent: preserve the context, explain the vote, distinguish estimates from established results, and support accusations with evidence.

Folks, our own side should not receive a discount on truth.

Before sharing the commercial that confirms everything we already believe, we should check the original statement, the complete record and the sponsor’s supporting evidence.

Our political convictions may guide our vote. They should never decide which facts we are willing to see.

Signature of Benjamin Groff with copyright information and website link.

Sources

PolitiFact, October 9, 2026

Sources

FactCheck.org, October 1, 2026

FactCheck.org, July 7, 2026

PolitiFact, October 2, 2026

PolitiFact, September 15, 2026

PolitiFact, October 12, 2026

Morning Coffee: What If We Had Kept Our Promises?

October 13, 2026October 9, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

What if there had been no Trail of Tears?

October 13, 2026

Well, if you survived Monday, pour yourself a cup. Depending on your calendar and community, you may have called it Columbus Day, Indigenous Peoples’ Day, or Native American Day.

woman in yellow jacket and brown white floral apron holding yellow white ceramic mug — _{^{Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com}}

Whatever name you used, it got me thinking about the Oklahoma of my childhood.

When we played Cowboys and Indians on the playground, we had the real McCoys on both sides—kids from cowboy families and kids from Native families.

Sadly, the cowboys always seemed to win, and our Native friends went along with it. That was simply how we played. I don’t remember anyone questioning why the ending had already been decided.

Now that I am older, I realize how sad that was. Truly sad. Even in a childhood game, we were repeating the story we had been taught: who got to be the hero, who was expected to lose, and whose side of the story hardly mattered.

Had I understood then what I understand now, I would have wanted more victories for my friends—and a chance for them to tell the story their way.

But we had been programmed. Before we were old enough to question the script, we already knew our parts.

Growing up, we commonly used the word “Indian.” We also watched television westerns where Indians fought cowboys, and the script usually told us whom to cheer for before anyone fired a shot.

Looking back, television was doing a fair amount of our thinking for us.

I still have Native friends who call themselves Indians. That is their choice, and I respect it. People deserve to tell us who they are, rather than have the rest of us decide for them.

The Oklahoma I remember has changed. Tribal businesses and casinos became increasingly visible over the years, especially after I moved away. Places I associated with one chapter of my childhood began to look very different.

But seeing a changing landscape and understanding its history are two different things.

For years, I wondered how land purchased by a tribe became tribal land. I also confused that question with whether the land was sacred. Those are different matters: sacredness concerns religious and cultural significance, while trust status involves a legal process through which the federal government holds land for a tribe or an individual Native person.

Still, understanding that distinction leaves me with a larger question: How did we arrive at a place where Native nations sometimes have to buy back portions of the lands they lost?

That question stays with me longer than the explanations about deeds and boundaries.

What might this country look like if settlers and the governments that followed them had respected Native nations’ right to govern themselves? If agreements had been honored? If families had not been forced from their homes?

What if there had been no Trail of Tears?

Would we be better off today? Would our relationships with one another be different? What knowledge, traditions, and possibilities might have survived that were instead disrupted or lost?

I am not looking for an argument over my morning coffee. I am wondering about the distance between the history we inherited and the history we might have made.

We cannot know exactly how that other America would have turned out. But uncertainty about what might have been does not erase what actually happened.

Perhaps that is what this day brings to my table: a reason to look beyond the television westerns of my childhood and listen to the people whose histories those scripts so often pushed aside.

My coffee cannot change yesterday. But I can still learn something today.

The reference to forced removal and the Trail of Tears is supported by the National Park Service’s historical account. nps.gov

Signature of Benjamin Groff along with copyright and attribution information.

Border Wall Dispute Raises Questions About Public Safety and Local Resources

October 12, 2026October 11, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

[SPECIAL EDITION]

“They keep building the border wall. If nothing else, it gives politicians something to crow about. Though these days, you have to wonder whether anyone’s still asking for directions to get here.”
— Imagining Will Rogers weighing in from the grave…

October 12, 2026

A dispute over border wall construction in southern Arizona has become a disagreement over law enforcement responsibilities, public safety, and the resources available to a county sheriff’s office.

In an October 9 open letter, the Arizona Sheriffs’ Association raised concerns about allegedly unanswered requests for assistance during protests in Santa Cruz County. The association said federal and state officials had reported incidents involving alleged violence, threats, and property damage. It called for those allegations to be documented and investigated.

_{^{The video above was from six months ago. Then there didn’t appear any issues with getting the wall up. Since that time those building Trump’s border wall cut into an ancient ground carving older than Stonehenge. The Las Playas Intaglio carving of a huge fish is at least 2,000 years older than the first Egyptian pyramid, according to researchers’ estimations.}}

The letter also attributed to Sheriff David Hathaway a policy limiting deputies’ responses to protest-related calls to incidents involving violence. Whether particular requests involved criminal conduct, and how his office handled them, requires further examination. According to Arizona’s Family’s report, the sheriff’s office had not responded to the station’s request for comment.

The dispute follows an October 5 federal operation at a protest encampment near Lochiel. Arizona’s Family reported that video showed a protester being removed from a cottonwood tree using a cherry picker before the tree was cut down. Activists had occupied the site to oppose construction of a second border barrier. That confrontation is described here.

The public safety questions deserve attention. So does the capacity of the local agency being asked to respond.

Santa Cruz County covers approximately 1,236 square miles of land and had an estimated population of 50,020 in July 2025. The Border Sheriffs directory lists 39 sworn officers for its sheriff’s office, although that listing does not establish current staffing or the number available for patrol on any particular shift.

colorful license plate wall display in canada — _{^{America has long welcomed people who came to do business—or simply escape winter for a little sunshine. This year, some businesses in those sunny destinations say fewer visitors are returning, and trade has slowed to a crawl. The sunshine is still here. The customers, it seems, are checking the forecast for more than the weather.}}

From my experience in law enforcement, an agency’s total sworn strength can give a misleading impression of its available manpower. Days off, training, leave, investigations, supervision, and other assignments affect how many officers can answer calls. A fair assessment should examine actual deployment and workload before drawing conclusions about available resources.

Staffing constraints do not erase a sheriff’s responsibilities. Arizona law requires sheriffs to preserve the peace and address public offenses and disturbances. Whether those duties were fulfilled here should be evaluated through dispatch records, incident reports, requests for assistance, and the sheriff’s explanation.

Federal agencies should also explain how they planned to manage demonstrations and coordinate with local authorities. Construction that draws sustained opposition requires clear arrangements for emergency response, protection of lawful protest, and investigation of alleged crimes.

The association has offered available assistance through the Arizona Department of Public Safety if requested. That offers a possible route toward cooperation while preserving the county sheriff’s independent authority.

My concern is whether the agencies involved have established a workable plan that protects residents, protesters, workers, and officers without leaving routine county services short of personnel. Answering that question requires documented facts, an opportunity for all sides to respond, and a realistic accounting of resources.

Signature of Benjamin Groff with attribution and copyright information.

No, I Won’t Meet You in Montana

October 12, 2026October 11, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

“Won’t You Meet Me In Montana?”

October 12, 2026

No, I won’t meet you in Montana. Especially on Monday.

couple among trees in snow — _{^{Photo by Hugo Sykes on Pexels.com}}

The National Weather Service has issued winter storm warnings for parts of the state through Monday morning. An earlier forecast called for 10 to 20 inches of snow in some areas, with isolated totals approaching 30 inches in the Bob Marshall Wilderness.

Thirty inches. That is considerably more wilderness than I require.

NBC Montana also reported that the Beartooth Highway’s closure was moved up to Friday because of the approaching winter weather. When even the highway is closing early, I consider that a fairly clear invitation to stay home.

Some folks see that forecast and think, “How beautiful! Let’s pack up and spend the winter there.”

I admire their enthusiasm. From Arizona.

Desert living suits Steve and me just fine. Give me a wide horizon, a warm afternoon, and a winter wardrobe that doesn’t require instructions.

Somewhere in my head, the Green Acres theme is playing while I compose my own little tribute to staying warm. Steve has probably heard enough of it already.

I have gone north in November. I was younger then. I didn’t know what I know now.

pouring hot tea from thermos — ^{_{Photo by Amine on Pexels.com}}

The sky would turn gray, and the weather forecaster would assure us that we were expecting wind and cold. Then we would wake up to waist-deep snow.

Apparently, the snow had neglected to attend the briefing.

I remember drifts deep enough for cattle to walk over barbed-wire fences and wander miles from where they belonged. Across that stretch of country—Texas, the Oklahoma Panhandle, southwestern Kansas, and into Colorado—winter could make a fence seem more like a suggestion.

The cattle weren’t respecting property lines. They were looking for somewhere better to stand.

I understood their position.

I have also gone into Wyoming in December, when the forecast called for “a dusting.”

A foot of snow later, I began to suspect that Wyoming used a different measuring system.

I was young enough to tolerate it then. Or at least young enough to claim I could. There may also have been a few questionable concoctions involved that improved my opinion of the situation without improving the weather.

They didn’t melt the snow. They merely made being trapped indoors seem briefly like something I had agreed to.

Meanwhile, the snow kept piling up outside, and the roofline began looking uncomfortably close to ground level.

These are experiences that build character. I believe I have accumulated enough character to remain in Mesa.

So, no, I won’t be meeting anyone in Montana on Monday. Not for snow, a sick moose, or a lost tourist. Send photographs. I will study them from a comfortable chair and express the appropriate concern.

I moved to the desert to stay warm, and that decision continues to hold up beautifully.

If I get too warm, I can daydream about lounging beside the pool, with my broken leg propped safely out of the proceedings. Otis will be looking at me as though I’m the household misfit.

This from a dog who considers running through the house at aircraft speed a reasonable afternoon activity.

In my version of the pool scene, he eventually joins me, dog-paddles back to his float, and settles beside a water bottle with a little umbrella attached.

He has no job, pays no bills, and somehow ends up on the better vacation.

That is life around here, folks.

Monday, October 12, 2026. I checked. It is Monday.

Mesa may have a few showers in the forecast, but nobody is predicting that I’ll need to shovel my way to breakfast.

Montana can keep the snow. I’ll keep the coffee.

And if you need me, you know where to find me.

Somewhere warm.

Morning Coffee ––– This Mornings Could Be Mourning Coffee With Such A Writing As I Have For You!

October 11, 2026October 9, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

“I’m Writing A Letter For Daddy”

If You Know The First Words To The Song.

Then You Already Can See The Google-Eyes Of Bette Davis!

October 11, 2026

This morning’s coffee comes with an eye-opener. I hadn’t planned to start the day this way, but the idea landed in my lap last week while I was lying around with a broken right ankle and leg. And—poof!—on came a flick I’ve seen so many times I can practically recite the dialogue: What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

Apparently, a broken leg wasn’t enough to keep me uncomfortable. Bette Davis had to drop by and finish the job. I can tell you I know “What Ever Happened To Baby Jane!”

A scene from a classic film featuring two women; one sitting in a wheelchair and the other standing with a silver tea service, set in a vintage interior. — *_{^{Joan Crawford as Blanche (left) Bette Davis as Baby Jane (right)}}*

I have watched What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? so many times that I can almost recite the dialogue along with the actors.

I first discovered it late one night while caring for my ailing mother-in-law. I watched it again when my own mother was in similar circumstances, and recently returned to it while recovering from a broken leg. Somehow, this wonderfully unsettling film keeps finding me when I’m already confined to one spot.

Bette Davis plays Baby Jane to perfection. Her performance gets under my skin every time. Joan Crawford, as her sister Blanche, makes you feel the helplessness of being trapped upstairs and dependent on someone increasingly cruel and unpredictable. From the moment Jane claims Blanche’s bird has escaped through the window, you know something is terribly wrong. Before long, you’re worrying that anyone who gets too close—including the neighbors—might meet the same fate as the housekeeper, Elvira.

Then there is the singing. Davis’s strained, childlike rendition of “I’ve Written a Letter to Daddy” makes my skin crawl, yet I still want to hear it. For me, it has the same unsettling, irresistible quality as the Silver Shamrock jingle in Halloween III: Season of the Witch (which, by the way, is our anniversary song—Steve’s and mine) Once it gets into your head, it settles in and refuses to leave.

Although the story includes murder, its final scene relies on something more haunting than a bloody spectacle. That is part of what keeps bringing me back: the performances, the dread, and the feeling that even familiar scenes can still unsettle me.

But I’m left with one thoroughly impractical question: whatever happened to the Baby Jane doll? Can I get one—and, more importantly, will it sing that tune? Apparently, watching the film repeatedly hasn’t disturbed me quite enough.

I say bring it back for this years Christmas sales! Why not reconcile with a symbol of pure craziness. It is in style today. Isn’t it?

Signature of Benjamin Groff with the text 'By Benjamin Groff II GroffMedia© benandsteve.com ©2026'

The Legacy That Remained Above Ground

October 10, 2026October 7, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

A memorial holds meaning beyond its concrete, marble, steel and glass. Its name tells future generations whom a nation chose to remember. Its halls preserve music, theater, ceremony and shared experience.

October 10, 2026

In my 63 years, America has traveled an extraordinary distance. Yet some shadows seem to follow us from one generation into another.

Paper collage featuring American flags, Capitol, White House, Statue of Liberty, and civic buildings — _{^{This mornings coffee is going to be layered. Get ready.}}

I was born in 1963, during the Kennedy presidency. His assassination belongs to the beginning of my life, even though it lies beyond my earliest memories. For Americans old enough to remember November 22 of that year, the news from Dallas became a dividing line: before, and after.

The Kennedy years had already brought their share of danger. In April 1961, the failed Bay of Pigs invasion—developed under the Eisenhower administration and authorized by Kennedy—became one of his earliest foreign-policy crises.

Then came Dallas.

Questions involving the Soviet Union quickly became part of the national conversation. Lee Harvey Oswald had lived there, married a Russian woman and visited the Soviet Embassy in Mexico City shortly before the assassination.

Those circumstances fed suspicion. Official investigations, however, did not establish Soviet involvement. The Warren Commission found no evidence that a foreign government had employed or encouraged Oswald to assassinate Kennedy. The House Select Committee on Assassinations later concluded, on the evidence available to it, that the Soviet government was not involved.

Still, the suspicion never entirely disappeared from the American imagination.

And America continued through a succession of moments that once seemed unimaginable.

On March 31, 1968, President Lyndon Baines Johnson announced that he would neither seek nor accept his party’s nomination for another term. The Vietnam War consumed the nation, and political divisions continued to deepen.

That June, Robert Kennedy was assassinated while campaigning for the Democratic presidential nomination.

Vietnam stretched across presidencies, taking American lives and leaving divisions that remained long after the troops came home.

Then came Watergate.

Richard Nixon resigned on August 9, 1974, as impeachment proceedings advanced against him. On September 8, President Gerald Ford granted him a pardon for federal offenses committed or potentially committed during his presidency.

The country moved forward, carrying another argument about power and accountability.

Then came the Iran hostage crisis.

Fifty-two Americans endured 444 days of captivity following the seizure of the U.S. Embassy in Tehran. Negotiations during the Carter administration produced the agreement securing their freedom. They were released on January 20, 1981, as Carter left office and Ronald Reagan became president.

During Reagan’s presidency came Iran-Contra: secret weapons sales to Iran and the diversion of proceeds to support the Contras in Nicaragua. Reagan initially denied trading arms for hostages, but later acknowledged that the initiative had deteriorated into precisely that.

Under George H. W. Bush, America went to war in the Persian Gulf after Iraq invaded Kuwait.

During the Clinton years, we witnessed the deadly conclusion of the Branch Davidian standoff near Waco, Texas.

Aerial view of a damaged building with significant structural collapse on one side, exposing debris and rubble, surrounded by a cityscape. — _{^{Alfred P. Murrah Building Okc, Oklahoma.}}

Two years later, Timothy McVeigh, aided by Terry Nichols, carried out the Oklahoma City bombing. The attack killed 168 people, including 19 children. It remains the deadliest act of homegrown terrorism in American history.

Then came September 11, 2001.

During George W. Bush’s presidency, nineteen al-Qaeda terrorists hijacked four commercial airplanes. Nearly 3,000 people were killed in attacks that changed the country and the world.

A decade later, during the Obama administration, U.S. forces killed Osama bin Laden.

And still America continued.

Donald Trump became the 45th president. Joe Biden followed as the 46th. Trump returned as the 47th.

Russia again became entangled in an American presidency, under circumstances very different from the suspicions surrounding Kennedy’s assassination.

U.S. intelligence agencies concluded that Russia interfered in the 2016 election, an assessment upheld by the bipartisan Senate Intelligence Committee. The Mueller investigation documented numerous campaign contacts involving Russia, but did not establish that Trump campaign members conspired or coordinated with the Russian government in its election-interference activities.

These episodes do not establish a common conspiracy. They show how questions of foreign influence, presidential power and public trust can echo across generations.

Then, on July 1, 2024, the Supreme Court ruled that former presidents have absolute criminal immunity for conduct within their exclusive constitutional authority and at least presumptive immunity for other official acts. Unofficial acts receive no presidential immunity. The decision reshaped the legal boundaries of presidential accountability.

Now we find ourselves back at the Kennedy name.

Congress designated the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts as a living memorial in 1964. In September 2026, a federal judge again blocked efforts to add Trump’s name without congressional authorization. The board then voted for an extended renovation closure. Trump said repairs would depend on approval of the naming proposal.

Management separately cited structural safety concerns for a temporary closure, while the board’s renovation decision remained under court scrutiny.

The dispute widened further when a judge required advance notice before demolition and bipartisan lawmakers proposed legislation requiring congressional approval before a presidential memorial could be demolished. As of October 2, that proposal had not become law. These developments do not establish that demolition has begun, but they give the question of preservation immediate importance.

For me, that brings these years into an unsettling circle.

A presidency ended in Dallas. A cultural institution was later dedicated to keeping that president’s memory alive.

Nearly 63 years after his death, Americans are arguing over what can be done to that memorial, whose name it may carry and who has the authority to decide.

Repairs deserve careful attention. So do the laws and public responsibilities attached to the place being repaired.

Who decides what name a national memorial carries?

How much authority should a sitting president have to reshape an institution dedicated by Congress to another?

And when does renovation become reinvention?

Those questions reach beyond the Kennedy Center.

Across my lifetime, I have watched presidents come and go, wars begin and end, and scandals shake institutions that once seemed beyond question. The country has endured pressures that appeared capable of breaking it.

Survival, however, does not settle every question. We must still decide what we carry forward.

Some things belong to the American people across generations. Each administration inherits responsibility for them. Each generation receives something it did not build alone.

That inheritance asks something of us.

What parts are ours to change—and what parts have we been entrusted to preserve for those who come after us?

Kennedy’s presidency ended in Dallas.

rockets in kennedy space center in usa — _{^{Photo by Luis Bettiol on Pexels.com}}

His name survived on schools, highways, airports, a space center and one of America’s most important cultural institutions.

That is why the argument over the Kennedy Center reaches beyond performance halls and construction plans. It concerns the care we give to a memory entrusted to us.

Kennedy’s coffin was closed nearly 63 years ago.

The more unsettling question is what we will preserve of the legacy that remained above ground.

Signature of Benjamin Groff followed by copyright information and website details.

Morning Coffee: My Words Have Gone Traveling

October 9, 2026October 7, 2026Benjamin4 Comments

So put me on a highway
And show me a sign
And take it to the limit one more time

October 9, 2026

Good morning, folks.

I was looking at the map showing where visits to benandsteve.com have come from, and something struck me: my words have been getting out more than I have.

person with coffee on retro newspaper on table — _{^{Photo by Tahir Osman on Pexels.com}}

Here I am in Arizona, putting together a few thoughts over coffee, while something I’ve written turns up halfway around the world.

Apparently, my stories don’t need a passport. They don’t even have to take their shoes off at the airport.

When I begin a piece, I usually have something fairly close to home in mind. A memory from Oklahoma. Something Steve said. An ordinary object that carries an extraordinary amount of history. Or a passing thought that refuses to leave until I give it a paragraph of its own.

I don’t generally sit down thinking, “I wonder how this will go over in Tanzania.”

Perhaps I should start.

In the recent figures I reviewed, approximately 45% of the recorded views came from China, while nearly 42% came from the United States. Canada accounted for about 5%, followed by the United Kingdom at roughly 2.5%.

The remaining views came from India, Pakistan, the Philippines, Tanzania, Tunisia, and the Netherlands. Together, those countries represented about 6% of the views in this snapshot.

That is quite a bit of traveling for thoughts that began here at home.

_{^{Visits to benandsteve.com from around the world}}

The shaded countries on the map made that reach visible in a way a column of figures never quite could. I found myself looking at places I hadn’t expected to appear and wondering how something I wrote had found its way there.

Of course, a map cannot tell me the whole story. It doesn’t tell me who stopped by, what brought them, or whether they stayed long enough to finish their coffee. But it does show recorded activity from parts of the world I never imagined would have any connection to my little corner of the internet.

And that gives me something to think about.

I grew up in a small Oklahoma town where you usually knew who was listening. Sometimes you knew their parents, their grandparents, and precisely who would hear about what you said before you made it home.

Writing online is a different experience. You put a story out there, and its next stop may be somewhere you’ve never been.

A recollection from my childhood might turn up in Canada. A bit of dry humor might make its way to the United Kingdom. Something about family, kindness, loss, or simply getting through the day might reach a place whose name I’ve known all my life without ever expecting my writing to arrive there.

I like that possibility.

So much of what I write begins with ordinary life. The details belong to me, but the feelings may be familiar to someone much farther away: missing a parent, remembering an old home, laughing at an aggravation, or finding comfort in a daily routine.

I cannot say what any particular visitor takes away. I can only hope that somewhere in these pages, they find something worth pausing over.

This map has reminded me that the circle around benandsteve.com may be wider than I realized. My stories are beginning to show up in regions I never expected them to reach, and I’m curious to see where they go next.

Wherever you happen to be reading this, thank you for stopping by.

Pull up a chair. There’s always room for another cup.

And if my words make it to your part of the world before I do, please tell them to behave themselves. I have a reputation to consider.

Morning Coffee: Climbing the Family Ladder

Featured1 Comment

Sometimes you have to question what your told. This is about abunch of those times.

October 6th, 2026

Good morning, folks!

I thought I would bring you up to date on how I’m doing socially and professionally. Despite doing absolutely nothing, I continue to climb the ladder of success.

Abstract torn-paper collage revealing a glowing geometric grid in blue, gold, and purple

For years, I had cousins in Oklahoma and Arkansas, with a few sprinkled across Texas. I was the adventurous one who made it to Colorado, Wyoming, and Arizona. But now a cousin of mine has moved from Kansas City to Chicago. Technically, he’s my cousin’s son, but he’s only ten years younger than I am, so we’ve never bothered with the fine print.

He lives about twenty floors up. That is a level of upward mobility I could never achieve without an elevator. When I pass through Chicago, I plan to announce that I’m stopping by the penthouse. Whether he actually lives in a penthouse is a detail I’ll leave out.

Did I mention he’s a doctor? Around the café, that earns me another badge of distinction, even though I didn’t attend a single one of his classes.

I’m having fun with it, of course. My cousin’s accomplishments belong to him. But people borrow the shine from someone else’s success all the time. Sometimes it’s harmless bragging over coffee. Sometimes that borrowed shine is used to convince us to trust someone or accept a deal we haven’t looked at closely.

That brings me to a habit I learned as a law enforcement officer, one that has helped me many times since: question what you’re told.

If a story sounds convincing, ask what supports it. If someone claims an impressive connection, find out what that connection actually means. If an offer sounds too good to pass up, take the time to read the terms. You don’t have to be suspicious of everyone. You can simply give yourself room to check the facts before you decide.

Sometimes the evidence confirms the story. Other times, it shows you something quite different.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish my coffee and call my cousin. I have to find out whether I can honestly keep saying “penthouse.”

Morning Coffee: Coffee, You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby!

October 3, 2026September 26, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

The First Thing Of Your Day, Is Coffee In Your Cup!

October 3, 2026

Good morning, folks!

Steaming coffee cup beside an open ceramic coffee jar and spoons

In their day, coffee was hot. It was waiting on the breakfast table, offered to anyone who stopped by, or kept brewing when someone had to stay awake all night. You took it black, with sugar, with cream, or with both. That was about the extent of the menu.

If my grandparents—or even my dad—could pull up to a coffee shop today, I think the menu would stop them in their tracks. Iced coffee? Coffee with foam? A drive-thru where people wait in line just to order a cup?

And then there was the ceremony of opening a fresh can of ground coffee. Someone would work the can opener around the lid and get the first breath of that rich aroma. If you were nearby, you leaned in for your turn. There was nothing quite like it. I’d recommend experiencing it once in your life, but once probably won’t be enough.

At home, we made coffee by the pot. You put the grounds in the maker, waited for the water to work its way through, and poured a cup when it was ready. I learned that when it was ready was an important part of the process. Pulling the carafe out too early could leave you cleaning up the counter before you’d had your first sip.

I still like sugar in mine. You may take yours black or with enough cream to change its color entirely. These days, you can have it poured over ice and topped with just about anything. My dad might have looked at that cup and asked when the coffee was coming.

But the part I remember best had little to do with how anyone ordered it. I remember waking to the sound of my parents or grandparents talking at the breakfast table while the smell of fresh coffee drifted through the house. Before I could make out what they were saying, I knew they were there and the day had begun.

That aroma can still take me back. Maybe you have a coffee memory like that, too. If you do, I hope your next cup brings it along for a visit.

Morning Coffee: I Would Have Been Happy with a Popsicle

October 2, 2026October 1, 2026Benjamin2 Comments

I am not here today. Why will be explained in todays morning coffee.

Oct 2, 2026

Good morning, folks. It’s Friday, and if you’re reading this, it means my coffee has gone out without me.

person holding white ceramic mug — _{^{Photo by Zeynep Sena Açar on Pexels.com}}

By now, I expect to be in surgery or recovering afterward, possibly deeply sedated. Either way, someone else will be making the rounds this morning.

You see, I’ve done it again.

Somehow, I keep finding ways to get myself scheduled for repairs. Several times a year, somebody decides I need another adjustment. I’m beginning to think I should come with a maintenance manual.

This particular visit, however, was unplanned.

On Sunday, I was innocently walking across the den when my lights went out. No warning. No dramatic announcement. Just a sudden goodnight—and down I went.

In the process, I managed to break my leg and ankle and dislocate another bone in the ankle.

All of that, simply crossing the floor.

I didn’t trip over anything. I didn’t tumble down a staircase. I wasn’t attempting one of those athletic maneuvers that begins with “Watch this!” I fainted. Apparently, my landing had ambitions of its own.

Thanks to good insurance and the people arranging my care, I’m having surgery this morning to put things back where they belong.

Personally, I would have been happy with a Popsicle. The medical team felt a more substantial response was warranted.

The surgeon even postponed a trip out of town so he could stay and take care of me. That means a great deal. Knowing someone rearranged his own plans to help put me back together gives me something to be grateful for amid all this unexpected excitement.

I’m also grateful to having Steve there. He immediatedly heard me fall. Then notices something wasn’t right. My body was bent in a weird fold. He was my advocate in between my screaming. Then the rescuers who arrived at our home and carried me out. When your ordinary Sunday suddenly becomes an emergency, those folks become the most welcome people you’ve ever seen.

What still leaves me dumbfounded is how I managed so much damage in such a small space. I’ve had people demonstrate how they think I fell, and nobody else has come away with a broken leg or ankle.

I seem to have added something to the performance that cannot be reproduced.

In preparation for my absence, I’ve scheduled several weeks of Morning Coffee. There will still be a thought or two waiting here to help you begin your day, even while I’m busy following instructions about keeping my leg elevated.

During recovery, I plan to catch up on old episodes of South Park. I mean, educational programming about South America. We’ll see how convincing I sound after the medication wears off.

_{^{This was me in the Emergency Room Sunday night. I kept telling everyone “my eyes are up here!” They tried to reset it. Under full sedation, while unconscious, I screamed bloody murder. People could hear me out in the hallways adjacent to the emergency room. Patients who had been waiting for hours, got up and left. I was asked I could come back next week.}}

I do feel I owe you more. Perhaps a chance to sign my cast, if I get one. Or footage of the fire trucks and ambulance arriving. Some photographic evidence of this latest production would have been nice.

So far, I have only a photo of me in the emergency room. A photo of my foot.

All I can offer is the mystery of how a fellow walks across his own den, trips over absolutely nothing, and winds up needing surgical repairs.

Keep the coffee going, folks. I’m looking forward to updating you on the other side of surgery.

And next time somebody offers me a Popsicle, I’m taking it before the situation escalates.

Morning Coffee: The Cowboy I Knew

October 1, 2026September 24, 2026Benjamin3 Comments

Tell Them Now While It Matters. Tomorrow May Never Come!

October 1, 2026

Good morning, mates!

I thought I’d throw a little English banter into today’s chatter. It seemed fitting while I sat here with a cup of coffee and a recording of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds playing in the background.

Cowboy holding a steaming mug beside a ranch fence at sunset

I record shows when they air and watch them when life gives me a moment. This morning, while the Enterprise traveled through space, my mind wandered back to the days when I was a young chap watching cowboys ride across the television screen.

There was Rawhide, Hopalong Cassidy, and Gene Autry singing his way through the West. I enjoyed them all. But even as a boy, I thought some of those fellows had an easy time of it. The cowboy I knew best had horses to feed, cattle to tend, and work waiting for him whether the cameras were rolling or not.

That cowboy was my dad.

I watched him care for our animals day after day. He was tough, capable, and steady. To me, he was the real thing. He was my hero from the beginning.

What I don’t know is whether I ever told him that clearly enough.

We sometimes assume the people we love already know what they mean to us. Maybe they do. But hearing it from us can still make a difference. A few honest words can stay with someone long after the morning is over.

So while you have your coffee today, think of someone who matters to you. Tell them what you admire about them. Thank them for something they taught you. Let them know that the ordinary things they do have never looked ordinary to you.

You don’t need a grand speech. You just need to say it while they’re here to hear it.

My dad never rode across a television screen. But after all these years, he is still the cowboy I remember best.

Clarence, Mildred, and the Lone Eagle

September 30, 2026September 29, 2026Benjamin7 Comments

You are kidding me, they don’t talk about me like that? Surely… Yes they do. And I can let you listen to it!

September 30, 2026

Good morning, folks.

Winding rural road through mist, viewed from inside a vehicle

I don’t know whether it was an Oklahoma City thing or whether listeners elsewhere heard it, too. In the mid-1980s, I kept my patrol radio tuned to KATT, The Rock 1000. One of my favorite parts of the morning was a voice that came on with a greeting something like, “Hello, babysitters. This is Clarence, and this is the All My Children update.”

Clarence had a deep voice and a gift for recapping the previous day’s soap opera. He would run through the latest goings-on, slipping into impressions of the characters along the way. I could be miles into a patrol shift, carrying whatever the night had handed me, and that voice would give me a few minutes to laugh.

I needed those minutes. Some of the officers I worked with used enough starch in their underwear to stand at attention without getting out of the patrol car.

Around the station, I was known as the Lone Eagle. I worked the south district, and when I headed south, I soared. Some nights brought felony arrests. Other nights, I found a way to upset an elected city official who probably thought the hour made him unreachable.

Then there was Mildred.

Her husband was a city councilman, and the chief had agreed to put her on the reserve police force. How that arrangement came about, I couldn’t say. What I knew was that Mildred talked through an entire eight-hour shift without seeming to draw a breath. Riding with her was like attending a farm auction where the auctioneer never stopped and the hog never sold. Every so often, the hog would snort, and the bidding would begin again.

Somehow, no matter how the schedule was arranged, Mildred ended up in my unit. The other officers wouldn’t take her. I was the least senior officer on those nights, so I got the assignment.

One night, I lost my patience.

I asked Mildred if she had ever wondered why she always rode with me. She said she thought it was because I liked having her along. I told her that wasn’t it. I said it more harshly than I should have.

She looked genuinely surprised. She hadn’t noticed that other reserve officers got different assignments while she kept getting mine. I told her the others complained about riding with her. When she thought I was making it up, I played a mini-cassette recording of officers saying just that.

Mildred listened. Then she said, “Oh, Ben, you ought to hear what they say about you before you get to the station to pick me up.”

“I know,” I told her. “You don’t think this is the only tape I have, do you?”

I didn’t stop there. I said things about her husband and why I thought he wanted her out of the house. I had no proof of that. I was angry, and I wanted my words to land. I also told her what I expected to happen next: she would go home upset, her husband would complain to the chief, and sooner or later something would happen to me at work.

I drove back to police headquarters and gave her one sentence she could repeat.

“Get the hell out of my unit.”

That night may sound like a scene Clarence could have recapped the next morning: a councilman’s wife, a tape recorder, a patrol officer who finally said too much, and trouble waiting at the station. But there was nothing funny about what followed. Two matters did arise that left me feeling exposed and unable to defend myself as I might have at another time.

My father had died, and I was still crushed by it. I feared a public fight would hurt my family. A year later, I believe I would have fought with everything I had. At that moment, I pulled back.

When I think about those patrol mornings now, I still hear Clarence’s voice cutting through the radio. For a few minutes, his account of somebody else’s drama gave me room to breathe. I had no idea how much I would miss that little break when the drama became my own.

In the months that followed, a series of events unfolded. I’ve written about some of them. Others I’ve never told publicly. That changes in October, when I’ll share what happened and why it sent shock waves through our community and local law enforcement. Watch for the first installment of October Surprises.

The Groff Tenkiller Stunt

September 29, 2026September 28, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

September 29, 2026

Hello, babysitters. This is Clarence,

and this is

“The All My Children”

update or was it

“The Young and The Restless”

update?

September 29th, 2026

Before I get too far into this story, I should tell you where I began retelling it: in an ambulance on the way to the emergency room.

Visual depiction of the story’s descriptors

The driver asked what had happened. I told him I had apparently performed the Groff Tenkiller Stunt again, nearly forty years after the original. Naturally, he asked what that meant. It was a fair question. He had no way of knowing that the answer involved a lake in Oklahoma, a cliff, a cooler of beer, and a group of friends operating under names like Sid Vicious, Johnny Rotten, and Red Foley.

There were seven or eight of us at Lake Tenkiller that weekend, depending on who you ask. Finest people you’ll ever meet, I told the driver. Depending on who you ask about that, too. We had escaped the cities for a little relief from our busy lives. Between our aliases, we sounded like the Sex Pistols had rented a boat with the cast of Gilligan’s Island. I must have been the slinger, because I spent much of that weekend slinging my body around.

I remember a rough night before our trip to the cliffs. At one point we were laughing about a helicopter landing so close to our camp that it might ruin our efforts to keep our identities mysterious. Then came word that Merle Haggard would be in nearby Muskogee. I announced that we ought to go. Surely Merle would let us in wherever he was. We hatched a plan, though calling it a plan gives it more credit than it deserves.

While that was taking shape, we took some beer to a cliff near the dam. The warnings against jumping were clear. We were young enough to believe we had plenty of time to worry about warnings later. My friends started diving. I watched from above, because I have always had a terrible fear of heights.

Then someone shouted that we were out of beer. I could help with that. Rob came with me to get another cooler from the truck. Somewhere along the path, I stepped off a rock that turned out to be more cliff than rock and injured my right ankle. I poured the only alcohol I had over it: beer. It was a poor attempt at first aid, but I was young and convinced I knew what I was doing.

As I limped back toward the water, I met a group of women carrying their own cooler. I invited them to join us and told them we were a rock-and-roll band enjoying a day off. Soon I was leading what I understood to be cheerleaders from the Muskogee area down to the cliffs.

photo of ambulance parked near trees — _{^{Photo by Nothing Ahead on Pexels.com}}

My friends came up out of the water, shook out their ears, and stared. I had left to get beer and returned with an audience. I made one intentional cliff jump that afternoon and received a hero’s applause for bringing the party with me. I felt like Barney Fife after solving a crime.

The ankle was less impressed. Between the fall, my beer treatment, and the afternoon in the lake, it became badly infected. By the time I got home, I couldn’t get my uniform boot on. My doctor put me on antibiotics and pain medication and took me off duty for two weeks. As it happened, I had enough accumulated time from overtime that taking the leave kept me from eventually losing it.

That was the first Groff Tenkiller Stunt.

Nearly forty years later, on a Sunday afternoon in Arizona, I was walking from our bedroom toward the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. Something went dark. I turned, missed whatever I was trying to see, turned back, and tripped over myself. I blacked out and broke my leg and ankle in two places.

When I tried to stand, I fell forward. Steve came out of his recliner and told me not to move. I tried anyway. I went down like a dead mackerel.

I looked at my ankle, thought it was out of place, moved it, and told Steve, “See? That’s all it needed.” Then I tried to stand again. The pain proved my diagnosis was lacking. I screamed loudly enough to bring Otis to my side. He looked at me as though someone had tried to kill me.

“Good boy,”

I told him.

We tried the neighbors. Nobody was home. We even looked around our 55-plus community for a wheelchair someone might have left on a patio. No luck. I suggested I could scoot to the car. I made it about a cheek and a half before everything started going dark again.

It was four in the afternoon, but I felt as though night was closing in. Steve checked my blood pressure: 80 over 50, with a pulse around 90. I finally said what neither of us had wanted to say.

“I think this is the time we actually call 911.”

When the fire crew arrived, I was glad to see them, though I tried to keep a little dignity about it. Soon I was in the ambulance explaining the Groff Tenkiller Stunt to a driver who had only asked a simple question.

That’s how an old memory turned into a patrol story. Once I started talking about Oklahoma, I remembered the mornings I spent driving my district with KATT on the radio, waiting for Clarence and his All My Children update. For a few minutes each day, he could make somebody else’s troubles sound entertaining.

And then I remembered Mildred, the wife of a city councilman. Neither of us knew it yet, but we were about to change the course of each other’s lives.

Morning Coffee: Good Morning, Folks

September 28, 2026September 24, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

“Loving Folks Since 1982”

September 28, 2026

Good morning, folks. It’s Monday.

crop faceless women sitting at table with cups of coffee — _{^{Photo by Liza Summer on Pexels.com}}

I know. Some of you were getting along just fine until I reminded you.

Before we face the week, let’s settle an important matter: I like calling you folks. It’s a warm word. It leaves room for the people I know well, the people I’ve just met, and the person standing behind me at the coffee shop who can see that I still haven’t decided what I want.

“Friend” is different. Friendship takes time. We might get there, but if we’ve never met, please don’t greet me with “Hello, my friend” while reaching for my wallet or trying to sell me a new roof. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.

“Folks,” though? That works. It sounds like someone pulling out an extra chair at the table. No promises required. You can sit down, have a cup, and tell me how your weekend went. If Monday has already tested your patience, you can tell me that, too.

So good morning, folks. Pour the coffee. Find your shoes. Check that you have your keys before you close the door. We’ll get this Monday started together.

And if we become friends along the way, I’ll be glad to call you one.

Morning Coffee: The Muffin Trick

September 27, 2026September 22, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Hey, Hey, The Muffin Man…it’s Sunday a day free to visit kin!

September 27, 2026

Good morning ~

man hand holding paper cup of coffee — _{^{Photo by Berna on Pexels.com}}

Maybe you’re reading this over your first cup of coffee.

Maybe you’re on your way to work, letting someone’s voice read it aloud to you. I have no idea what I sound like on your end. Jimmy Stewart? Hank Hill? Cousin Itt? Perhaps Thing from The Addams Family is signing along. If it’s Bart Simpson?, please don’t let him drive.

Whatever voice you’ve given me, let me tell you about two fellows I saw at a convenience store.

The first was studying a basket of muffins. He leaned toward his friend and said,

“I could nab two of those, and nobody would even see me. I’m that quick.”

His friend said nothing. He just watched as the man slipped a muffin into each coat pocket.

I saw it. His friend saw it. The clerk did not.

Then the friend smiled.

“I can do better than that.”

Basket of muffins on a rustic bakery table beside a lit fireplace

He walked to the counter and asked the clerk,

“Would you like to see me make two of your freshest muffins disappear and then reappear?”

The clerk, curious now, handed him two muffins.

The man ate them both.

“Well,”

the clerk said,

“you made them disappear. How are you going to make them reappear?”

The man pointed across the store.

“Look in my friend’s coat pockets.”

I don’t know which of those two men walked out feeling cleverer. I do know the clerk ended up with quite a story to tell.

So take a sip of coffee, put a little spring in your step, and enjoy the start of your day. And if someone at the convenience store offers to show you a muffin trick, check your pockets first.

Morning Coffee: Five Minutes Ago

September 26, 2026September 22, 2026Benjamin1 Comment

September 26, 2026

Some people need a cup of coffee to wake up. Others need a Loch Ness Monster.

Two people in a boat above a giant river creature — ^{_{Changing perspectives…}}

I heard a joke about a man who set out across Loch Ness to prove there was no monster. He was an atheist, too, and quite sure he knew what he would find: a lake, some water, and a good story somebody had made up.

Then his boat reached the middle of the lake. The sky darkened. The shoreline disappeared. And out of the water rose a creature towering over his boat.

“God, help me!” the man cried.

A voice came down from above. “That’s interesting. Five minutes ago, you didn’t believe in me.”

The man looked up and shouted, “Five minutes ago, I didn’t believe in the Loch Ness Monster, either!”

I have to give him that one. If a monster rose beside my boat, I would reconsider several things at once. I might even develop a sudden appreciation for life jackets, fast motors, and staying home.

Changing your mind when the facts change makes sense. But I have watched people change their views without a monster, a fact, or even a decent explanation in sight. An idea is terrible at breakfast, then brilliant by lunch because someone they admire said it out loud. The evidence hasn’t changed. The company has.

I suppose we have all done a little of that. Before the first cup of coffee, I can be certain I don’t need a second. Five minutes later, the pot starts looking mighty persuasive.

So today, if someone’s opinion changes in an instant, I may ask myself what appeared: new evidence, a new audience, or a creature rising out of the lake?

If it’s the creature, I’m changing my mind, too. And I’m taking my coffee to go.

You Don’t Have to Finish the Day Before Breakfast

September 25, 2026September 21, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

The day may arrive all at once, but we can only live it one moment at a time. Begin with the coffee, take the next good step, and let the rest of the morning wait its turn.

September 25, 2026

###

There are mornings when I wake up already behind.

I haven’t even placed my feet on the floor, yet my mind is standing beside the bed with a clipboard.

There are messages to answer, bills to remember, appointments to keep, stories to write, and several little things I promised myself I would do yesterday. Before I have poured my first cup of coffee, my brain has scheduled enough work to exhaust three people—and at least one of them should be younger than I am.

Traveler beside numbers 1 through 7; sign reads, “A stubborn sunrise is better than not having any at all.” — J_{^{ust start counting the stress away 1…2…3…4…}}

That is the trouble with mornings. The day arrives all at once, even though we can only live it one moment at a time.

Coffee understands this.

It doesn’t leap from the container into the cup fully prepared. The water must heat. The grounds must be measured. The coffee must brew. Then comes the cream, sugar, or whatever little ceremony makes the cup your own.

Nobody stands beside the coffee maker shouting, “Hurry up! We have an entire day to finish!”

Well, perhaps somebody does. But that person should probably be sent back to bed.

Coffee takes the time coffee takes.

Maybe we should grant ourselves the same kindness.

We do not have to solve every problem before breakfast. We do not have to know how the entire day will unfold. We don’t even have to feel particularly enthusiastic about it. Sometimes our first accomplishment is simply getting out of bed. The next may be finding our glasses and remembering why we walked into the kitchen.

Progress is still progress, even when it arrives wearing slippers.

I have discovered that a day becomes much less intimidating when I stop carrying all twenty-four hours at once. I only need to carry this moment.

Drink the coffee.

Answer one message.

Make one decision.

Do the next decent thing.

Then do another.

Some days will still become tangled. Plans will change. Someone will call just as we sit down. Something we carefully placed where we would remember it will disappear into that mysterious dimension occupied by missing socks, reading glasses, and important pieces of paper.

That does not mean the day has been lost.

There is still time to do some Fall Cleaning. Remember -– This is the first week of Autumn and Fall cleaning is not only for closets and cupboards. Sometimes our memories need to be taken down, dusted off, and placed where we can see them again.

A good day does not have to be a perfect day. It only needs a few honest moments: a kindness offered, a responsibility met, a laugh we didn’t expect, or the decision to begin again after something went wrong.

So, if this morning already feels too heavy, set part of it down.

You were never expected to carry the entire day before breakfast.

Begin with the coffee. Let it warm your hands. Take a breath and allow the world to turn without your supervision for a minute or two.

The day will still be waiting.

But perhaps, after that first cup, it won’t look quite so large.

Go ahead get a another cup, and enjoy your morning!

Are you exhausted before your feet even reach the floor? Today’s Morning Coffee is a reminder that you don’t have to carry all twenty-four hours at once—and progress still counts when it arrives wearing slippers.

Start Before You Feel Ready

September 24, 2026September 21, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Motivation does not always arrive before the work begins. Sometimes we must take one small step, interrupt the stillness, and give it a chance to catch up with us.

September 24, 2026

Motivation has a habit of arriving after the work begins.

Good morning, folks.

Steaming coffee beside an open handwritten journal on a wooden table

There are mornings when determination charges through the front door, throws open the curtains, and announces, “Let’s get something done!”

Then there are mornings when determination apparently has the day off.

The coffee is brewing. The sun is rising. The clock is moving. But we are sitting there waiting for some grand burst of motivation to lift us from the chair and carry us into the day.

Unfortunately, motivation can be terribly unreliable.

If we wait until we feel completely prepared, confident, rested, organized, and inspired, we may still be sitting beside the coffee pot when lunchtime arrives.

Sometimes we must begin before we feel ready.

Put on the shoes.

Make the telephone call.

Write the first sentence.

Wash the first dish.

Open the door and step outside.

Sometimes when Fall arrives it seems that time is off. That the moment we are in is all backwards. The evening is offset. The clock is moving slower than it should. Then all of the sudden it is later than it should be. That is what happens when time Falls back. Whether the time changes or not. The sun sets earlier, comes up sooner, or moves across the sky at a different pace. Autumn begins to change the way you move.

The first movement may be small, but small movements have a way of waking up the rest of us. One completed task leads to another. Before long, the day that seemed determined to go nowhere has discovered a destination.

I have learned that life rarely sends a marching band to announce the proper moment to begin. There may be no drumroll, perfect weather, or encouraging voice from the heavens. Most beginnings arrive quietly, disguised as an ordinary decision:

“I suppose I had better get started.”

That sentence has launched more accomplishments than we will ever know.

You do not need to conquer the entire day before breakfast. You only need to interrupt the stillness. Give yourself one honest reason to rise, move forward, and show the world you have not surrendered your place in it.

The coffee cannot do everything.

It can warm your hands, clear a little fog from your mind, and perhaps make other people safer to be around. But eventually, you must set down the cup and take the first step.

So begin before you feel ready.

Motivation may be running late—but once it sees you moving, it usually hurries to catch up.

Until tomorrow, may your coffee stay warm, your memories stay close, and your hope stay strong…

—Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Before the Day Asks Anything of Us

September 23, 2026September 19, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Before the telephone rings, the messages arrive, and the world begins making its demands, the morning gives us a few quiet moments to gather ourselves. We should not hurry past them.

September 23, 2026

Good morning, my friend.

There is a small stretch of time each morning before the day begins asking things of us.

Before the telephone rings. Before the messages arrive. Before the headlines tell us what we should fear, question, or become angry about. For a few precious moments, there is only the sound of coffee pouring into a cup and the quiet promise of another day.

We often hurry through that silence without realizing how valuable it is. We begin making lists in our minds. We remember what we forgot yesterday and worry about what might go wrong today. Before our feet have carried us very far, our thoughts have already run several miles ahead.

But perhaps the morning was never meant to be a starting gun.

Perhaps it was given to us as a gentle place to gather ourselves—to sit quietly, take a breath, and remember that we are more than our obligations. We are more than the chores waiting in the next room, the appointments written on the calendar, or the problems we have not yet solved.

The world will make its demands soon enough. It always does. But it can wait long enough for us to finish one warm cup of coffee.

So, this morning, give yourself permission to remain still for another moment. Notice the light coming through the window. Listen for the familiar sounds of home. Think of someone who has made your life better simply by being part of it.

You do not have to accomplish anything during these few quiet minutes. You only have to be present for them.

Before the day asks something of you, allow the morning to give something to you: a little peace, a little strength, and another reason to be grateful you are here.

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.

The world will begin asking things of you soon enough. But before it does, sit quietly, take another sip, and allow the morning to give something back. Today’s Morning Coffee is waiting.

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 — 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, 2026Benjamin2 Comments

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 — 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.

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.

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

September 5, 2026October 12, 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 ––– Don’t Rush The Morning

September 3, 2026August 31, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

The world may be ready to rush us into the day, but mornings deserve a gentler beginning. Sometimes the best way to prepare for everything ahead is to slow down, enjoy the coffee, and simply notice the quiet moments before the day begins.

September 3, 2o26

Good Morning,

hand holding coffee cup reading good mood juice — _{^{Photo by Connor Scott McManus on Pexels.com}}

The coffee is poured, the day is waiting, and somewhere out there the world has already decided we should be in a hurry.

There is always something waiting for us.

A message that needs answering.

A chore that needs finishing.

A place we are supposed to be.

A problem we have convinced ourselves must be solved before breakfast.

We spend so much of our lives rushing toward the next thing that sometimes we forget to notice the thing we are standing in.

This morning.

This cup of coffee.

This moment.

I think mornings were meant to be entered gently.

Not attacked.

Not conquered.

Not treated like the starting gun at a race.

There is something about those first quiet minutes of the day that belongs only to us.

Before the telephone rings.

Before the television begins telling us what went wrong overnight.

Before somebody somewhere needs something from us.

There is that little pocket of time when the house is still quiet and the coffee is warm, when we can sit for a moment and remember that simply being here is enough.

I have noticed through the years that some of the best mornings are the ones when absolutely nothing happens.

No emergency.

No unexpected visitor.

No major announcement.

Just the familiar sounds of life beginning again.

Maybe a dog stretching nearby.

A refrigerator humming in the kitchen.

A bird announcing itself outside the window.

The soft clink of a spoon against a coffee cup.

Things so ordinary we hardly notice them.

Yet those are often the sounds we miss most when life changes.

We are always being told to make every minute count.

But perhaps every minute does not need to accomplish something.

Some minutes are allowed to simply exist.

Some are meant for sitting quietly.

Some are meant for remembering.

Some are meant for staring out the window while holding a warm cup between your hands and thinking absolutely nothing important at all.

There is value in that too.

Life will begin asking things from you soon enough.

The day will pick up speed.

There will be appointments, responsibilities, decisions and probably at least one thing that does not go according to plan.

But none of that has arrived yet.

Right now, it is morning.

And for these few minutes, you are allowed to simply be here.

So drink your coffee before it gets cold.

Watch the morning arrive.

Let the world wait just a little while.

Because sometimes the best way to prepare yourself for everything waiting ahead is to begin the day without rushing toward any of it.

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

You do not have to race through every moment. Some of the best parts of life are found when we slow down long enough to notice them

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 — The Sunday Coffee Pot

August 30, 2026August 29, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

Sunday coffee has a way of slowing the world down. Sometimes the best thing we can do before another week begins is sit quietly, sip slowly, and remember how much there still is to be thankful for.

August 30, 2026

coffee in white mug on magazines — _{^{Photo by Loow Invernissi on Pexels.com}}

Sunday coffee tastes different.

I don’t know that there is anything scientific behind that statement. The beans are the same. The water comes from the same faucet. The coffee pot certainly hasn’t learned what day of the week it is.

But somehow, Sunday morning coffee knows.

It knows there is no reason to rush.

The coffee pot can sit there on the counter and quietly do its job while the rest of the house slowly decides whether it is ready to join the day.

There are mornings when coffee is practically a piece of emergency equipment. You pour it while looking at the clock, searching for your keys, wondering where you left your glasses, and trying to remember whatever important thing you promised yourself the night before that you absolutely would not forget.

Sunday coffee doesn’t seem interested in any of that.

Sunday coffee says, Sit down.

The world will still be there in ten minutes.

Maybe that is one of the little gifts we have forgotten how to appreciate.

I often find myself reflecting on the Sundays of my childhood, especially those quiet early mornings when only my father and I were awake.

The test pattern had just disappeared from our black-and-white television, and the first program of the morning was the children’s show Davey and Goliath. It was followed by a gospel music program featuring the Florida Boys. I enjoyed both, although the second one was certainly aimed more toward my dad’s age group than mine.

When the gospel program ended, Dad would usually look at me and say, “Let’s go.”

Most Sundays, he already had a few sacks of groceries packed and ready to deliver around the southwest part of town, where much of Binger’s Black community lived. We had chickens—hundreds of them, at least it seemed that way to me as a child—along with cattle and pigs. My father shared what we had with people he believed truly needed it.

As we made those rounds, he would sometimes give me one of his little lessons.

“You don’t see a single one of them getting commodities at City Hall when they’re handing them out,” he would say. “Nope. It’s all these fine-to-do white people.”

There was always just a little preaching mixed into his words.

Even at that young age, I understood what he was showing me. I had already begun to recognize the hypocrisy he was talking about—the difference between what people said about others and what was actually taking place right in front of us.

Once our morning deliveries were finished, we would stop and buy the Sunday newspaper from the sidewalk vending machine. Dad would toss it into the pickup, and then we would head for the only café in town open on Sunday morning.

That was where Dad gathered what I now jokingly call his weekly community intelligence.

He listened.

He visited.

He heard who was doing what, who was upset with whom, whose crops were doing well, whose family was having trouble, and whatever else happened to be making its way through town that morning. Then, during the following week, he could use that information to maneuver his way through conversations in the barbershop.

And I had my own use for it.

Come Monday morning, I could walk onto the school playground and tell my classmates what I had heard their neighbors talking about over Sunday breakfast.

For a kid with a speech impediment, having a little inside information turned out to be a surprisingly useful way to keep a conversation going.

We spend so much of our lives preparing for the next thing that we sometimes fail to notice the thing we are living right now.

The coffee pot understands none of this, of course.

It simply sits there.

A little steam rises.

The kitchen begins to smell familiar.

A cup gets filled.

And for a few moments, nothing else is required of us.

There was a time when Sundays seemed almost designed around slowing down. Stores opened later. Families gathered for dinner. Church bells rang. Newspapers were thicker. People sat on porches longer.

Even the telephone seemed to understand that Sunday morning was not the appropriate time to cause trouble.

Today, the world rarely takes a day off.

Our phones buzz.

The news keeps moving.

Someone somewhere desperately wants us to know about a sale ending at midnight.

But the old coffee pot still offers the same invitation it always has.

Stay awhile.

Listen to the quiet.

Think about the people you love.

Remember the ones who once sat across the table from you.

Be thankful for those who still do.

And maybe leave a little room in your day for absolutely nothing important at all.

Because sometimes doing nothing important is exactly what the soul needs.

So this Sunday morning, pour another cup.

Let the coffee pot keep warm whatever is left behind.

And before you hurry into another week, give yourself permission to sit quietly with the life you already have.

It may not be perfect.

It may not always be easy.

But somewhere between the first sip and the bottom of the cup, you might discover there is still quite a bit worth being thankful for.

Have a wonderful Sunday from benandsteve.com — and may your coffee be hot, your morning be peaceful, and nobody ask you to do anything important until at least the second cup.

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.