This is daddy's mug.I have on my desk at work a small mug with a broken handle. It's sides are thick and have what look to be an Indian designs on it. American Indian that is. If I think back and guess as closely as I can I would have to say that this cup is about 45 or 47 years old. It pulls double duty for me. It keeps my tea and hands warm as I drink my tea but more importantly it warms my heart as I look at it. It is one of the few things I have left of my dads'.
Daddy passed away from a painful bout with lung and kidney cancer in 1968. He was in and out of the hospital having surgery and who knows what else for over a year. I was 7 when we found out he was terminal and he quietly slipped away in his own bed at home one morning four days after my 8th birthday.
This particular mug was daddy's work mug as well. It sat on his desk everyday and I looked for it when I went to visit him at the office with my mother. Daddy always said it was the perfect coffee mug because it was small enough and thick enough to keep the coffee hot from the first drink to the last. The handle has been broken for as long as I can remember but neither dad nor I could give it up. It is the perfect mug.