The cup was a gift in 2004 from two students, thanking me for being the guest speaker at one of their club’s events. It has served me well over the past 8-years, serving not only coffee and tea, but water throughout the day. Not a school day has gone by that I haven’t used this coffee mug — until now.
On Friday afternoon at a Kairos team meeting, after the annual Mass of the Holy Spirit, a desk in Rm 314 titled, spilling my empty mug onto the floor — and cracking it. Water began to bead on the outside of the mug, and the interior began to discolor as water infiltrated the clay. I snapped two pictures of the mug, and gently deposited it in the garbage can.
Teachers, over the years, have asked me about the mug, noting the “C is for Cookie” script on one side, and the matching “Guest Speaker” on the reverse. There hasn’t been another mug like this one in years, and it stood out. I’ve left the mug in random places on campus, and it’s so well-known, it’s reappeared in my mailbox without fail.
All of this is to say that I was strangely attached to my coffee mug — and what’s strange about that is that there are so few physical objects that I have any emotional attachment to. Just ask my wife! I have no favorite food, no favorite drink, no favorite color, no favorite restaurant — those sorts of favorites and attachments just aren’t part of my psychological make up.
So what is it about the mug that attracted me? Some thought this weekend on a long run resulted in an answer: it’s the giving. These two students, Kristen Francoz and Lourdes Long, made the mug and gave it to me — even picking the green and blue colors on purpose. I’ve thought about them often over the years, wondering where they’d gotten off to, and how they’re fairing in life. It’s their thoughtfulness that made the mug special to me — and the fact that it sparked such memories of them. (I have very distinct memories of Lourdes as a freshmen, and equally distinct memories of Kristen and her younger sister, Alexis.)
These little gifts from students are sweet. I have a cactus from a recent graduate; I have a stool in Rm 314′s electrical closet that’s signed by my first debate team at SI; there’s a silly handmade sign in my office with the punchline from a terrible joke; there’s a newspaper clipping on my corkboard from a student who thought of me when she saw it. These are simple things, but they’re signs of … for lack of a better word … affection on the part of students. And that’s what I have a sentimental attachment to.