I was 5 (yes FIVE) years of age when my Finnish father introduced me to coffee, as HIS father had done for him at age five.

Weeks before my birthday, Dad started preparing me for the ritual. That morning, we got in his truck and drove an hour north of our home to Ballard. This is famous neighborhood in Seattle that contains many peoples of the Nordic races.

He'd made a phone call and we were expected. The shop owner opened early just for us, and locked the door behind. Then "WE" picked out my own special (first) coffee cup (kavi kuppa).

When we got back home, Dad brewed a pot of coffee filled my cup half full of milk, then some sugar, and that wonderful ambrosia called "coffee."

All my years until I left home, the ritual of Dad and I having several pots of coffee together every morning were the very best days of my life.