One of the domestic jobs that makes me feel so very efficient and organized is lining the cabinets in my kitchen. Since it’s ridiculously hot and humid this week, I’m doing this little chore to make me feel like I’m accomplishing something in the heat. Stay in. Organize. Move everything out, lay down a measured sheet of white liner, move everything back in.
As I did this little maneuver, I realized coffee mugs mark interesting destinations in my life. Check your cupboard, and I’ll bet you’ll find your own life map.
Take this mug. It simply breathes optimism. Since I was a single parent, when each of my three children turned fifteen, we went out on harrowing expeditions to give them practice learning to drive. Usually, we went to the cemetery where we couldn’t kill anyone…again. Then, when my freshman sons had 6 a.m. basketball practice in high school, I trained them to flip on the coffee, fill this mug, and have it—and the car keys–ready at the back door as my alarm went off. I threw on sweatpants, shoes, shirt, and coat to ferry them, eyes half-opened, to the school. Do I miss those silent, 5:30 a.m. drives to the gym? Let me think about that one and get back to you.
One of my favorite mugs, used over decades, is this one reflecting how I feel about the 44-year job I did in high school and college: teaching. Though I’m now retired, I still miss doing what I always wanted to do with great passion: teach. I have no idea how people get up in the morning, day after day, and go to a job they hate. Teaching didn’t make me rich in my bank account, but it sure filled my life with treasure, a sense of worth, and great memories.
These mugs represent a reminder to support independent bookstores. When I lived in Champaign, Illinois, over three summers, I supported an indie bookstore. A marvelous store, Pages for All Ages was in the small town of Savoy, and I spent many an hour reading on its premises and buying books, particularly when I was a graduate student at the age of fifty. Alas, it has gone out of business like so many other small bookstores. The winters I lived in Phoenix, Arizona, I supported The Poisoned Pen in Scottsdale, a mystery/thriller store I often visited to buy books and listen to various authors speak about writing. They inspired me to write mysteries as my retirement career. Now I support Wordsmith Bookshoppe in my home town of Galesburg, Illinois. Supporting independent stores is so important in any economy.
My three children grew up, married, and have children of their own now. But there’s always that thing about, “Mom liked me best.” It hangs around the edges of life and occasionally is whispered aloud when siblings talk. As I always remind them, I love them all. One of my adult children gave me this mug. I won’t say which one.
And when I visit them in Arizona, I sometimes drive to the Queen’s Creek Olive Mill. It is also a favorite destination for visiting friends. The only olive oil grower in Arizona, it has expanded more than once to accommodate traffic. The Mill also supports all kinds of local businesses that produce products such as wine and baked goods. The story of its founding and expansion is an entrepreneur’s dream. I may set a murder mystery there down the road. I could see some poor, unsuspecting victim dying in the olive press. But until then, it remains a pleasant place to visit.
Banned Books Week arrives every fall, and I would be remiss if I didn’t show this mug which reminds me every day we must be vigilant to ensure the freedom to read. This year is even more important as a small coterie of book-banning people expand across the country to demand they have the right to decide what other people’s children may be allowed to read. Reading is so powerful. It is one of the first freedoms taken away when dictatorial governments rise to power. I love this mug which lists only a small percentage of books that have been banned in various times and places. It is reassuring to know people from all levels of society join librarians and teachers in defending this precious right.
And finally, here are three whimsical mugs. They’re mugs made from the school art work of three of the grandchildren. I never would have guessed I’d have eleven grandchildren. My own mother didn’t live to see any of her grandchildren, so these mugs represent a celebration of life going on and my gratitude for the privilege. Many are the times I sat and read Dr. Seuss to my grandchildren. One of their favorites was The Lorox, and one of my favorites was The Cat in the Hat. Of course, now the twins read 700+ fantasy stories. This fall, I will once again make the trek to Arizona to spend time with the little munchkins who have turned into teenagers. These mugs remind me of them throughout the rest of the year.
There. Now go check your kitchen cabinet and see how much you can learn about the history of the people in your house! It’s a trip down memory lane.
I have several writing related mugs, children’s handprint and granddad mugs, but my favorite one has a person facing two doors and the caption is Damned if you do, Damned if you don’t.
Oh, Debra, what a wonderful mug! I need to get one of those since that often describes the story of my life!
Oh Susan, I loved reading this. I have so many coffee cups that are special to me. Mugs given to me by the kids, have a mug for our now passed Chow dog, Tazz. Another mug for my grandpup a pomeranian,who too has passed. Another mug for our black cat who just turned 15. Have some from my mom that bring great memories of sitting at her table drinking hot tea with her. Thanks for bringing memories to life.
Sounds like you have quite a collection and great memories. Mugs of hot tea sure are generational. I can remember that with my mom too. Objects in stories offer so many possibilities, especially when connected to memories.
A lovely glimpse into your life through…mugs! We all have them. For some reason, everybody thinks I need more mugs with humorous writerly quotes. My mug cupboard is officially full. As I read, I thought of the comment about our characters: readers need to experience their emotional lives. Maybe the same thing is true of writers themselves.
So true, Connie. Where would your excellent mysteries be without objects people have loved, coveted, killed for, or hidden. Yes, they might be valuable antiques, but they might also have emotional value. My cupboard is overflowing too, but I can’t quite part with any.
This is such a wonderful post! And thank you from the bottom of my little librarian heart for standing against censorship.
Thanks, Janet, for reading my post. I had a book challenge in one of my high school classes and it came out well. The school board kept the book in the library. So yes, i’d definitely stand up against removing books!
Hello, my name is Betty and I’m a coffee cup addict. I ADORE COFFEE MUGS, CUPS, TUMBLERS….. I use to have so many that there was no room for glasses. I am in remission. I now have the same amount of mugs and glasses. I loved this! I unpacked dishes that had been in boxes for 7 years and the memories connected to the cups and plates etc. made me feel at home. You should definitely create a story with the olive press, that would be amazing!
Ha,ha. Yes, I could see you as a coffee cup addict!! Good to hear you have a collection that connects to your history and feelings. I think I need one that says Warren County Public Libraey!
Great idea for a post, Sue. I recently wrote a similar essay but about how what’s written on t-shirts these days doesn’t mean much and how I wish it did again, i.e. could be a review of places actually visited or at least some sort of trip down memory lane. Take care!
I read your post, David, and totally agreed with you. Objects are such a great way to connect with memories, and they’re great story or poem starters.
Gee, what a clever and thought-provoking blog post. Not being a coffee drinker, I don’t know that mugs would represent milestones in my life. But they certainly would for many parents, especially those coffee drinkers who had the privilege to teach. My time in the profession was 46+ years: 36 teaching fifth graders, one semester teaching fourth graders, 10 years teaching college, and 7 weeks teaching 8th graders. Yes, I received mugs, but never used them for coffee. Usually, they ended up serving as receptacles for thump tacks and paper clips. Anyway, the main point I got out of your wonderful essay, Susan, is that all lives have those events and times that are memorialized with things–memories prompted by tangible objects.. With you it is mugs; what’s more, I enjoyed reading about the “mugs” that mark the life you have lived so far–and will continue to live. Now Hattie and I know what to get you for birthday…publication of you next book…or whatever the next great achievement in your life might be–a mug.
I’m more than happy to add to my collection, Jim.