Camp Coffee

My mom taught me how to make camp coffee when I was a child. No, I didn't DRINK coffee as a child, but my parents did and they pretty much had it every morning of every day of my life as I was growing up.

One time we were on one of the many camping trips we took, and we discovered that the coffee pot was not with us. We had a larger, enameled, old "coffee pot" which we used to heat water for washing up and such, but the pot with the little percolating basket was back at home. So Mom filled the pot we had with fresh water, tossed the coffee grounds right into the water and set the pot in the camp fire. As it came to a boil she tossed in some eggshells to help the grounds settle, or to take the edge off the bitterness, or some such thing. I only remember that the adults all said later that it was a fine cup of "Arbuckle."

It's amazing to me that there is no real way to pass this down to my kids. They don't drink coffee - at least not the kind you get for less than $5 from Starbucks, Peets, or Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. They also have only been camping a handful of times, mostly with scouting troops or other crowds of people.

So how do I pass this memory - which fills me with warmth and joy - on to my kids? I guess I don't. Telling them about how Mama made that pot of coffee could be nothing more than a recipe to them. It could be about the tannins, and pH of the water, and the fact that some folks add a whole egg to the larger pots to settle the grounds, or any of a hundred other details. But it will not contain the smokey smell of the campfire, the snap of the firewood as it burned, the buzz of the other campsites around us as the day was getting started and people were lighting fires, waking slumbering kids, flipping back the flap on the front of the Coleman tents, as the sunlight was filtering at a crazy low angle through the tall trees along the shore of the river campground. THAT is what surrounds this memory for me, but the pot of camp coffee forms the core. Amazing.

I guess we should all go camping together, and let them experience it for themselves. But, of course, that would only give them memories of their own which could be very different than mine. But their memories, hopefully, would be more dear to them that way.

So it is. We rise or fall as a nation based on our ability to pass things on to the next generation. Things like selfless vs. selfish. Things like opening doors for strangers. Helping others, giving time and money to those in need, working hard, serving God.

I think I have done my best - I hope I still have time now to pass on some of the more fringe stuff - the 'stuff of like' which surrounds my memories.

This 'getting old' stuff, It's not for babies, is it!