The Coonridge Digest: The best cup of coffee I’ve ever had

Greetings from the Ridge.

Two icons of American comedy were also great friends: Jack Benny and George Burns. The two funny-men spent many of their hours together trying to break each other up, even losing sleep trying to think of ways to get a laugh out of the other. Benny would nearly always lose.

Both men were to attend a dinner party at the home of swimmer/actress Esther Williams. Knowing that Williams always sang for her guests in a voice that was less than professional, as Burns walked up to the door he whispered to his friend, "Whatever you do, Jack, don’t laugh when Esther starts to sing." When the blond hostess got up and placed her hand on the piano in anticipation of her first note, Benny fell off his chair and onto the floor in gales of laughter.

To get George back, Jack arranged to have himself let into George’s hotel room before he arrived. He’d come up with the perfect plan to get a laugh out of George. When he heard George’s steps in the hallway, Benny stripped naked and stood on George’s bed. The cigar-chomping comic didn’t know what was going on inside the room, but suspected something… so he sent the maid in first.

And it was Burns who had the last word as he gave the eulogy at Benny’s funeral. He said, "Jack was forever happy. He was like a little boy. I’ve heard it a thousand times. Jack would take a drink of coffee and invariably say, ‘You know, I think that’s the best cup of coffee I ever had.’ He’d eat a hamburger and remark, ‘I’ve eaten lots of hamburgers, but I think this is probably the best.’ Whatever car he was driving was the best he’d ever owned, and when he’d come offstage he’d always say, ‘You know, George, that’s just about the best audience I’ve ever seen.’ For Jack, whatever he was doing or eating or chasing at the moment, it was the best he’d ever had. And Jack meant it. It wasn’t just a figure of speech or something to say. He really meant it."

Living in the moment and simply being happy with what you have. It’s almost a lost art.

My grandfather was a hard-working farmer and had the means to buy what he needed, but he only used one hammer his entire life. Oh, he owned plenty more. He received a new one from some uninformed relative nearly every Christmas and he’d put it away on the lower shelf of his work bench just in case hell froze over and needed chopping lose. But when it came to nailing up a board kicked lose by an errant heifer or shingling the roof of the brooding house, he’d always bring out his old hammer, the stock worn slick by decades of work gloves, and the face a smooth gray oval. Grandpa was happy with his hammer. Why get another?

Simply being content…

Old adages are usually true. That’s how they got to be old adages.

Those who are most content are those who are content with least. Each of us has a life peppered with people we’ve met who seem to contain a sort of inner light – a joy beyond reason – purely because they’ve learned to content themselves with simplicity and have not been sucked in by the great god of greed and envy. The neighbor down the street who could never afford a new car but who kept her little patch of yard a veritable showplace due to simple hard work and a great deal of bending over… the aunt who never had the money to travel much, but who took such genuine delight of listening to your tales of your vacation stories… the family who raised a small army of children on a single, paltry salary, but who managed to pay for college… the widower around the corner who retired to a life of community service and found his greatest contentment in simply enriching someone else’s life.

I’ve misplaced my PhD in economics in some forgotten drawer so I may not sound patriotic in saying this, but all this advice to spend, spend, spend to lubricate the stuck economy sort of hits me in the wrong spot. I’d rather stick with advice like, "Get by," "Make do," "Conserve," and "Appreciate what you have." Grandpa’s new hammer would have looked mighty flashy when the community club members met to shingle the Legion Hall, but the old man was more concerned with shingles than shimmer.

There are much greater minds than mine who are currently working on the solution to our nation’s economic woes, and Lord knows I wish them well. And sometimes all the advice to "Cut back!" makes me want to say "Cut back on what?" when faced with fewer dollars to cover just the basics. But there is one thing I can do and I can accomplish it in shorter time than the Congress can implement any economic stimulus plans – I can learn the blessed art of simple contentment.

In honor of Jack Benny, I drank a cup of coffee this week. It came from the same spigot that I’ve pushed for several years and I poured it into the same type of cup. Only one difference: I thought to myself, "You know, I think this is the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had." Know what? It worked.

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door, but you’ll enjoy the trip.