A love story
The summer of 1958 was an idyllic time to be 15 years old. While the adults were concerned with their car payments and fallout shelters, my pals and I were more concerned about meeting girls at the beach.
Our little cadre consisted of 4 gentlemen, (Harry, Andy, Jim, Pat) and myself.
We decided to hang around the jukebox at the pavilion and hope that some girls would show up.
They did. Five girls from Schenectady. We had hit the mother lode.
Harold danced with Sandra, Andy danced with Susan, Pat danced with Pat, Barbra danced with Jim, and I danced with Mary Lou.
We were invited to Barbra's parents' camp later that day.
The stars and planets were aligned. 5 girls, 5 guys. That doesn't happen in real life but it did.
We arrived at the cabin and met Mr. And Mrs. Skoda. After a respectable amount of time, we whisked the girls down to the beach for a little romance and sweet talk.
The problem was...Mrs. Skoda!
After about fifteen minutes she would holler down to the beach, "Who wants coffee? I'm making some coffee. Coffee's ready"
I never tasted coffee in my life but it smelled great.
I told Mrs. Skoda I would give it a try. It tasted great.
Since that evening in 1958 I have been searching for that perfect cup of coffee that Mrs. Skoda served. I've tasted coffee from all over the world. I love my coffee.
My summer romance was wonderful. Mary Lou was a nice young lady but my true love that summer was Mrs. Skoda's cabin coffee.
Epilog: although my summer romance with Mary Lou did not last, two did.
My love of coffee.
Pat and Pat.
They have been married 50 years.
Pat likes coffee but Pat doesn't.