Coffee Grounds

I woke earlier this morning and forced myself up and out of bed, as I had to be work an hour and a half earlier due to the holiday schedule.

I am not generally a morning person, and to just to prove it to myself, while making my coffee, I tipped the filter out of my hand and in an instant, coffee grounds had scattered over my countertop, into the draws and cupboards ajar below and all over the kitchen floor.

I caught myself before the curse escaped me. I lightened my energy, relaxed my shoulders, and smiled, “Okay, Baba, get with it now!”

It took me about 15 minutes to clean everything up, as it seemed that coffee had not just been dropped, but flung by the hand of a mean little elf, for as far as he could throw it.

About half way through the job I felt that curse coming on again, and then I remembered last night’s CNN broadcast and Saddam Hussein’s quick trip to the gallows.

I had caught the beginning earlier on in the evening, during my break at work, when they were still not sure but said that the appeal for a delay in his execution had been rejected.

For some reason, I stood spellbound watching this unfold, as I had stood the day before when I heard James Brown had died. My daughter Nika had walked in on me that day as I watched the announcement with a pang of real regret, remembering those vintage scenes from the Apollo Theatre, James Brown and the Famous Flames, and “I Feel Good, I knew that I would…”

James Brown set a musical standard for a whole generation of new R&B and Soul musicians, including all the rock band/pop singers that ever were and will be. Without him, there would never have been a Michael Jackson, a Mick Jagger, or a Freddie Mercury. So what if he had his demons? We all do!

I said to Nika, “James Brown just died” and she replied, “Poor dad,” as she knew it had affected me in a sad way.

I felt no such sadness watching the face of Saddam Hussein on the evening broadcast, but I felt a different kind of sadness, when I listened to his daughter’s comments on what a fine and loving father he had been.

From what I saw over the past year, there was a regal quality to his face, something truly noble, but which had been pushed down and smothered in the fire of surviving as a dictator and grasping and killing his way into power. Saddam's demons were too powerful, and they took over. And somewhere along the way, he let them.

What if the other Saddam had taken over, the handsome man with the kind smile, splashing in the water with his child on his shoulders? The one who said “Don’t hate your enemies”! What if that man had ruled and guided Iraq?

My urge to curse was now fading. Spilled coffee grounds are not so bad!

Hell, they're nothing at all!