The Truth About Coffee

Kay Conner Pliszka

Thanks, Trisha. Dinner was grrreat,” my husband purred to our sister-in-law. Mike and I had driven down from Milwaukee to spend a couple of days at my brother Jim’s in Illinois.

Now it was time for our customary river-walk through their beautiful town of Naperville. It was one of those perfect winter evenings when only a light jacket and scarf were needed. The air was fresh, and a soft snowfall kept our path bright as we followed the flow of the river for nearly an hour.


“We’d better head back,” Jim cautioned. “We don’t want you old fogies making any excuses about being too tired to win at Scrabble.” And so we turned toward home to pursue our traditional family word-game challenges.

Arriving home, we all instinctively made our way to the fireplace in the den. Now it was my turn to purr. “Oh, this is sooo nice and cozy. Maybe I am too tired for games.”

“I’m pretty tired, too,” Mike agreed.

“I hate to admit it, but me, too,” Jim confessed. “Guess that walk did us all in.”

“Well,” Trisha suggested, “how about I put on a pot of coffee to wake us up?”

“That’ll work,” we all agreed as we made our way to the kitchen table.

“Remember when we were in college cramming for exams and gulping down coffee all night to stay awake?” Mike asked.

“Yes,” we all chimed.

“And during the teachers’ strike when we were on the picket line and it was freezing cold,” I reminisced, “that hot coffee got us through some pretty hard days.”

“Remember when Dad was in the hospital after his heart attack?” Jim reminded. “The hours we spent in the lounge sipping coffee and comforting each other? It was like the best drug in the world.”

“And how many times did we stay up most of the night talking and drinking coffee on Christmas Eve after we got all the kids in bed?” Trisha asked.

“Well, let’s hope it works tonight, because I really want to beat you youngsters in Password!” I spouted.

Trisha poured the coffee, and as we inhaled the rich aroma there was an almost unanimous “Mmmm” from around the table. After a few sips, we all began to come to life. “This is working!” Mike said. “I feel better already.”

“Me, too,” I agreed.

“Yep,” Jim said, “let the games begin!”

We were enjoying our time together. And it seemed the more coffee we drank, the more we came alive with laughter. We paused after the second game so Trisha could make a fresh pot.

“This java has done the trick once again,” I exclaimed, holding up my mug.

“You’re right. The caffeine is working,” Jim agreed.

“I feel wide awake now,” Mike said.

In the next instant, we heard Trisha giggling in the pantry. It was a contagious sound that tickled us. “Trisha, what’s so funny?” we called to her. She stepped back into the kitchen. With her shoulders still shaking from laughter, she held up the can of coffee and pointed to the lettering: DECAFFEINATED. “Honest,” she said, “I didn’t know.”

After some really good belly laughs, we realized that the power of suggestion is a mighty force. And in the end, we decided it really wasn’t the caffeine that kept us going throughout the years when we needed a lift. It was the camaraderie—the closeness of family and friends that pulled us through those times. But we all agreed that it wouldn’t have been the same without those tasty sips of coffee to warm us up, to stimulate conversation, and to give us something to hold onto for enjoyment or for comfort. Like a good friend, it was always there when needed—sometimes with caffeine; sometimes without!