Morning Coffee — A Serious Cup, Then Something Lighter

September 18, 2026September 16, 2026BenjaminLeave a comment

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 – 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.

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, 2026September 17, 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 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 — And Then Tuesday Came…

August 25, 2026August 13, 2026Benjamin2 Comments

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

Morning Coffee — August 25, 2026

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

August 25, 2026

There is something wonderfully dependable about an ordinary Tuesday.

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

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

It simply shows up.

And sometimes, that is exactly what we need.

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

Its job is remarkably simple.

Make coffee.

I appreciate that kind of dependability.

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

Then eventually, along comes an ordinary morning.

You wake up.

You shuffle toward the kitchen.

You put on the coffee.

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

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

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

Those ordinary mornings don’t receive enough credit.

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

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

Tuesday morning coffee.

A familiar chair.

A dog underfoot.

Someone you love somewhere nearby.

A little sunlight coming through the window.

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

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

They don’t demand anything from us.

They simply remind us that we’re still here.

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

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

And this morning, that sounds pretty good to me.

So here’s to Tuesday.

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

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

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

Sometimes the ordinary day is the gift.

Pour yourself another cup.

Tuesday has arrived.

And that’s news enough for this morning.

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

— Benjamin Groff II
Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com

Morning Coffee — The Places That Hold Our Names

August 20, 2026August 19, 2026Benjamin2 Comments

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

August 20, 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those are usually the best ones.

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

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

Some of those names belong to people we loved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Benjamin Groff II

Morning Coffee at benandsteve.com