I was around 8 years-old when my dad started taking me out fishing on Saturdays. We'd get up around 4:00 AM, put on the coffee percolator — too bad they're out-of-style now-a-days — and get ready. I loved that smell.
We'd be out the door as soon as we got the coffee into the old Stanley thermos — you know, the glass-lined ones you couldn't drop. We'd head down to the water where dad had an old runabout with an Evinrude motor was maybe 15 or 25 horsepower.
We mainly fished in the bays and inlets around the south shore of Long Island. We'd be out on the water for maybe an hour or so and dad would open that old Stanley thermos and pour out the coffee that I'm sure would put any espresso to shame today.
Dad died just before I went to Vietnam with the Marines, but many times in the early mornings before the sun is up, I sit quietely and enjoy a cup or two of black coffee — no cream, no sugar, thank you.
It's not the same, but I can still bring back the smell in my memory.
– Stephen H., Red Feather Lakes, Colorado