Remember that movie? It starred Karen Valentine and John Davidson...both of whom have become sometime residents of our town thanks to The New Theatre Restaurant. Karen Valentine was on after*words once, many years ago. When she asked where the restroom was I said, "Down the hall and to your left. It's Room 222!" Fortunately, our camera operator, Betty, was able to convince Ms. Valentine to stay and chat. Anyway, the movie of the same name as this bit of bloggifery, had to do with a stewardess (that's what they used to call them) with two husbands. That's not what this thing is about...although Channel 9 management often encourages me to seek some other employment...especially something that would take me thousands of miles away from here. Actually, this bit of cyber-fluff does concern my taking a second job...sort of.

This morning, Wednesday December 5, from around 10:00 until 11:00, or until they throw me out...so maybe, in reality from 10 until 10:05...I will be serving coffee at the Starbucks on the Plaza. A portion of the money will go to support The Children's Miracle Network. I won't be alone in my efforts. Kris Ketz and Donna Pitman will be there, too. It is a little unfair. Both of them actually know what all those ventis and grandes and mochas and lattes are...they can afford 'em and they drink 'em. I am not a coffee guy. When I go to a Starbucks with my wife, she orders me a hot chocolate, then makes me sit at a different table.

When I was a kid, coffee was coffee. Most of the houses I visited were divided between Folgers and Butternut. Cronkite or Huntley-Brinkley. Ford or Chevy. Plain or Star-bellied. Oh, wait. That last one had to do with Sneetches, not neighbors. Although, there was this one family I had questions about. Anyway, we didn't have all the fancy stuff. One Christmas, a guy did go door to door trying to sell "What Fell Outta Santa's Beard Mocha Blend" but he was arrested. If you took cream and sugar in your coffee, even that marked you as someone to be viewed with caution. Coffee was taken black. Period. Juan Valdez was about as exotic as we got. It seemed like every home had a coffee pot on the stove. Not a coffee-maker! Sorry Joe Dimaggio! A coffee pot! I loved those old tin pots. When I was a kid you could make really cool spaceships out of such things. I well remember my mom keeping me busy by letting me sit on the kitchen floor and play with the coffee pot. Sometimes she'd let it cool down first. To this day, when we're back for a visit, and she's had about enough of me, she'll slowly take the old coffee pot and some Tupperware out of the cupboard, put it on the floor and I'm amused for hours.

Anyway, just about everyone drank coffee in my hometown. Except me. I never developed a taste for it. I loved the aroma but that may have had more to do with living in a house with three sweaty older brothers and a dog. My wife and her family are coffee experts, too. So, when we married she tried to interest me in coffee. I tried but it didn't take. My lack of coffee intake means a couple of troubling things:

*My behavior can't be blamed on too much caffiene.
*When I go somewhere for coffee...I don't have coffee. This is not too big a deal since I am never invited out or over for coffee.

Well, if you're near the plaza Wednesday morning and want to see Kris Ketz and Donna Pitman perform their barista duties flawlessly and me stumble around with Gingerbread Latte, Peppermint Mocha, or Egg Nog Latte, come into the Starbucks. You'll be helping lots of great kids...even with hot coffee and a muffin in your lap.