Lori Duff Writes

Every once in a while,[1] I find myself getting down on the fate of humanity.  If you need any proof of the state of man’s unkindness to fellow man, just spend five minutes on social media or watch your news channel of choice for more than thirty seconds.  It doesn’t help that I finance my writing habit by lawyering.  I spend my workday dealing with real-and-for-true criminals, adulterers, domestic violence abusers and victims, and people in a world of financial doo-doo.  Not many people think, “All is right with my life.  I’m gonna go see my lawyer.”

But every other once in a while, I am given proof that there is hope for us after all. 

Not long ago, I walked into the office to a sea of mournful, scared faces.  No one wanted to be the one to break the new to me, but Diane, with her no-nonsense reputation, was elected.  “The coffeemaker died,” she said plainly, but not without sympathy.  I heard that sound – that combination record-needle-scratch-gears-grinding that stops time and heartbeats.  There were so many things at play here.  I mean, aside from the obvious – the lack of easy access to caffeine – there was the disruption of morning routine, which was just as key to the starting of the day.

Because, in times of great turmoil I turn to humor as a defense mechanism, I posted on social media: “The office Keurig just died.  I am beside myself with grief.  In lieu of flowers, you can send coffee to my office.”

Within fifteen minutes I got a phone call from a friend.  Now, normally I don’t name people without express permission, but I’m going to name Wendy Becton without Wendy Becton’s permission, because I know Wendy Becton would not give me permission because Wendy Becton is a humble person who wouldn’t want glory and praise heaped upon her.  But I am here to say that Wendy Becton is an amazing human being whose generosity knows no bounds and within a few hours her spare Keurig was in my office, chugging away, making coffee the way God intended.  A thousand, million, billion blessings on your head, Wendy Becton, and I mean this seriously – I will write your will or other legal document of your choice for free in exchange for your kindness.  All hail Wendy Becton. 

The gifts continued to be showered upon me.  I got a random Tweet from a coffee company called Tayst.  The good folks at Tayst offered their sincere condolences and a box of coffee pods upon confirmation of a working coffeemaker.  Thanks to the aforementioned kindness of Wendy Becton I was able to so confirm, and within a week, I received samples of Tayst “Medium & Magnificent,” “Medium & Heroic,” and “Bold & Brazen” coffee in an adorable burlap wrapped package, 100% compostable, with two miniature Tayst branded wooden clothes pins to reseal the pod packages.   

Before I get on about how good the coffee was/is, let me tell you this little nugget from the department of “It’s a Tiny Little World” a subsidiary of “There Are No Coincidences.”  I was cyber-chatting with the kind folks at Tayst, and it turned out that at least one of the founders is from Monroe, GA, which is a town over from where I live.  Neato, we said.  Coincidence.  I loved the geographical connection.  Then, when I got the package, I saw that Tayst is based in Oceanside, NY, which is a town over from Long Beach, NY, my home town.  I believe in free will a little too much to believe in an ordered, fateful universe, but really, this is too much, even for me. 

Fate.  Kismet.  Bashert.  Destiny.  However you say it.  Me and this coffee, we were meant to be. 

I’ll admit it isn’t for everyone.  It’s dark and rich and smooth (just like my men – ha ha[2]) and not for the faint of heart.  The descriptors are pretty dead on – Heroic and Brazen and Magnificent.  If you’re the kind of person who likes to sugar and cream up your coffee so that you barely taste it, it’s probably too much for you.  But for those of us who like a little hair on our chests, those of us who believe that coffee should not be a see-through beverage, well, yum, and I appreciate that it doesn’t put all that plastic out in the universe on permanent display.      

Of course, I’m inclined to like it because of the kindness Greg and Craig, the guys behind Tayst offered me quick on the heels of Wendy Becton’s generosity.  I was down and hopeless, and they showed me the light.  Whatever they spent on this random act of goodness, it shall be repaid multi-fold in the future orders I place.

All praise Wendy and Tayst, for they are the bringers of coffee to the thirsty and undercaffeinated.  Do not despair, ye who are wanting, for ask, and social media shall provide through the kindness of people.  Yeah, people.  I said it. 

[1] Ok, these days at an alarming rate

[2] This couldn’t be further from the truth.  I am married to a ruddy Irishman with gray hair who was a public servant his whole working life.  Not that there’s anything wrong with dark, rich, and smooth.  Yeah, I’m talking about you, Idris Elba. 

If you enjoyed this and want to read more like it, visit Lori on Twitter or on Facebook. Lori is a National Society of Newspaper Columnists 2018 Columnist winner, and a New Apple, Readers’ Favorite, and eLit award winner for her latest release, “You Know I Love You Because You’re Still Alive.”  She is also the author of the bestselling books “Mismatched Shoes and Upside Down Pizza,” and “The Armadillo, the Pickaxe, and the Laundry Basket.”

Lori Duff

Lori B. Duff is an award-winning author who practices law on the side.  Her latest book, “If You Did What I Asked in the First Place” was awarded the Gold Medal for humor in the Foreword INDIES awards in 2019. You can follow her on Twitter at @LoriBDuff and on Facebook. For more blogs written by Lori, click here. For more information about Lori in general, click here. If you want Lori to do your writing for you, click here. If you want Lori to help you market your book, click here.