Careful, or you'll end up in my novel.

I am a coffee drinker, the offspring of coffee drinkers. Both sets of grandparents, the Naslunds and MacDonalds, started the day with a pot of freshly brewed coffee, and also drank it as their dinner beverage. In between they had...coffee. They drank it as God intended - black and straight. No sugar, no creamers, no fancy flavored syrups, just coffee. Folgers, out of a metal can opened with a key that came attached to the top. Put the slot of the key over the end of the metal strip that ran around the top of the can and wind up the strip on the key, thereby separating the top from the can.
The quick hiss of the can's released vacuum was one of the sounds of my childhood.

The coffee was made in a coffee pot. Grounds in the basket, water underneath, set on a stove burner on "High" to percolate. We watched the darkening brew as it boiled up into the glass knob on the lid of the pot and when the color was deemed dark enough the burner was turned down to keep the brew hot. ("Dark enough" in a Scandinavian household meant something just this side of pitch black.) While the burner was cooling the pot was taken over to the sink where a wet dishrag was used as a pot holder to remove the basket with its grounds and the stem. The pot was then returned to the stove where the brew was kept just this side of boiling.

Coffee was drunk from a coffee cup. With a matching saucer. At our house the everyday dishes were Fransiscan, the apple pattern. Plates, bowls, and coffee cups with saucers. Mugs were for root beer at A&W.

Gramma Helen was a hardcore coffee drinker even by Scandinavian standards. Grandpa died when I was quite young, so I don't know if her habits developed after that or if she always lived at the far end of the coffee street. She didn't take the grounds out of the pot when it was done percolating. She turned the burner down to keep it hot and had her morning cups. After that she turned the burner off but left the pot with its grounds on the stove. When she wanted another cup later in the day she'd turn the burner back on - to high. The coffee would boil and pass through the grounds again. This was repeated until, by the afternoon, that pot of coffee was so strong it could have served as gasoline in the Buick.

She also saucered her coffee. If she could reach down from heaven she'd smack me for saying this in public because it was not a dignified, ladylike thing to do. And she was a proper person.
That first cup of coffee right out of the pot that was boiling seconds ago was too hot to drink but too important to be delayed. She carefully poured some of the coffee from the cup into the saucer where the increased surface area cooled it more quickly, so that after just a minute or two she could slurp it from the saucer. One or two of those and she could drink it from the cup.

I had coffee with my breakfast this morning. The grounds came out of a plastic container and went into a plastic contraption called a coffee maker that requires a paper filter. It brewed as strong as the coffee maker decided to make it, into a glass carafe with a plastic lid, and from there into a coffee mug with one or another clever sayings on the side. The carafe sits on a plate that keeps it hot for 90 minutes and then automatically shuts off. If I want more hot coffee after that I pour it into the mug and give it 70 seconds in the microwave.

Don't tell me the world isn't going to hell in a plastic handbasket...with a paper filter.