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.”
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.
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.
Motivation has a habit of arriving after the work begins.
Good morning, folks.
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
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.
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.
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?
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.
Benjamin and Sheriff Otis
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.
Who Shot J.R.?
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.
Some of the most important people in our lives rarely receive a standing ovation.
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.
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,
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
