"Mr. Coffee"

By Jerry Zezima

As a man who dozes off at the drop of a hat, even though I don’t wear one, I find it hard to wake up and smell the coffee.

The problem is that I can’t smell the coffee until I wake up. And I can’t wake up until I have coffee.

If that weren’t bad enough, my wife, Sue, won’t get out of bed in the morning until I wake up and make the coffee.

It’s the only thing I do better than she does. That’s especially true now that we have a new coffeemaker.

This one is a high-tech machine that comes with an instruction manual that must have been written by NASA.

The first thing I noticed was that the coffeemaker holds 14 cups, which created yet another conundrum because our old machine held 12 cups. This meant I would have to figure out how many scoops to use to make a full pot.

The challenge was daunting because I have the mathematical aptitude of a spider monkey.

I could divulge how many scoops I use to make 10 cups, which I do during the week, or 12 cups, which I make on weekends, but nobody could ever duplicate the quality of my coffee because I am like an Italian grandmother (I had two of them) who doesn’t go by recipe measurements as much as an instinctive touch that guarantees full flavor.

Then there’s the coffee itself. Sue buys a high-end brand that’s expensive but worth the price to wake up and smell it.

Still, I have always considered coffee a stupid drink. It’s made from beans that are grown on mountains, brought down by donkeys and smashed to bits before being run through with boiling water.

I prefer sensible drinks, like beer and wine, which I have made myself.

I once home-brewed Jerry’s Nasty Ale, which went down smooth and came back up the same way.

I also made Zezima Merlot after I picked grapes at a vineyard, brought them home, stomped on them in the bathtub like Lucille Ball on “I Love Lucy,” bottled the juice and let it ferment for two weeks. The winemaker said it tasted like nail polish remover.

But since I need caffeine to perform important tasks like feeding myself, I rely on coffee to start my day.

And to start Sue’s day, which is why I had to learn to use our new coffeemaker. It replaced our old coffeemaker, which was starting to leak.

Speaking of which, coffee can make you leak like Niagara Falls.

It can also make you smarter. According to Dr. Adam B. Rosenbluth, a columnist for AARP Bulletin (“All the News That’s Tough to Read Without Your Glasses”), coffee “seems to improve some kinds of brain activity. One brain-imaging study found that coffee enhanced connectivity in the memory and decision-making areas.”

I could have used a cup of java because my brain activity was short-circuited by the new coffeemaker’s instructions, which included these unnerving words: “Warning: Risk of Fire or Electric Shock.”

Then I noticed that there were 22 “Important Safeguards” and 14 “Features and Benefits.”

It was a far cry from the old metal coffee pot that Sue and I had when our two daughters were toddlers. Not only didn’t it come with instructions, but it was their favorite toy.

One of our daughters, now an adult with two daughters of her own, bought the same coffeemaker that Sue and I did. When I asked her how many extra scoops I’d need for a full 14-cup carafe, she said, “One. It’s not complicated, Dad.”

The next morning, I woke up and made the coffee.

“This is really good,” Sue said after taking a sip. “You got the hang of the new machine.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “I’m glad you don’t have grounds for complaint.”

Copyright 2026 by Jerry Zezima