End of An Era

I have officially retired my coffee mug.

For the uninitiated, that is a Buffalo Bills Super Bowl mug from their first trip to the big game.

I bought it in 1990, and used it just about every single day for the past 3 decades.

I packed it on trips, and bought cups at the convenience store to refill it after my first cup of the day.

It moved from North Collins to Baltimore to my bachelor pad apartment to my first house and has been here at our family home since 1996.

A couple of weeks ago, I was on a job and a guy leaned in to talk about the job. He saw the mug in my holder and said:

“Want me to throw that in the garbage?”

“That’s my mug!” I said.

“Jesus, dude.”

And I reluctantly am retiring it because:

A). I can’t fill it enough because the coffee flows over the side.

B). The coffee leaks out the bottom.

Yet, it hasn’t been an easy thing by any measure because:

A). I’m a tad off.

B). I hate change.

Now, the thing is, it was the perfect mug. I have not been able to find a mug that has that thickness of the rim that feels perfect to me.

Also, I’m a tad off!

It’s a little like Linus’ blanket, I believe. It was my daily security blanket.

How many cups of coffee did I drink out of it, you may ask…

I’m guessing that I filled it more than 15,000 times.

I placed the broken down mug on my book case beside photos of my children, the three copies of the Springsteen autobiography, and a few copies of my own books.

It’s going in the coffin with me about 50 years from now. I’ll write it in the will if I have to.

“I have bad news,” I said last night.

Kathy looked genuinely concerned.

“What?”

“I retired my coffee mug.”

“Oh no!” She said.

“It doesn’t hold coffee anymore.”

“Oh no!” Kathy said, again. “Are you all right?”

And she knew enough to not make fun of me for it.

“I’m not all right,” I said.

“I can imagine.”

And she knows.

There will be a period of adjustment required.

Say a little prayer for me.

More than 30 years!

I’m going to need some time.