My Family's Ritual

During the long months of the COVID shutdown, when restaurants and coffee shops closed their doors, our family found a strange little ritual that kept us sane: coffee runs. We downloaded the Joe App, pre-ordered drinks, and piled into the Dodge Caravan to drive across Chicagoland just for the chance to step out of the house. Whoever lost the round of “verbal straws” had to sneak inside, grab the order, and reemerge like a Marine on a rescue mission. Leave no man behind, especially when carrying lattes.

At first, Starbucks or Dunkin’ Donuts was good enough. But after a while, we started to crave something more. We became explorers, searching the city for hidden gems—the cozy shop with mismatched furniture, the minimalist spot serving beans roasted with care, the hole-in-the-wall café tucked in an alley.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped being casual coffee drinkers and started becoming coffee snobs. But really, it was never just about the coffee.

Being crammed into that van, hyped up on caffeine while the city sat eerily empty, something unexpected happened. Coffee became our truth serum. Conversation flowed more easily than it ever had around the dinner table. We talked about the pandemic—our fears, our futures, the things we’d lost and the things we hoped for. The kids, reluctant Griswolds in our rolling minivan, suddenly opened up. We laughed harder, we argued more honestly, and we shared the kinds of thoughts usually kept to ourselves. Those drives became less about picking up drinks and more about picking up pieces of each other.

Even now, long after the shutdown ended, the ritual continues. It’s no longer just about escaping the house. It’s about staying connected. Last week, I walked a couple of miles with my youngest daughter, Grace, to grab coffee and hear about her work and friend escapades. The week before, in Door County, our family woke up early to sneak out to Analog Coffee by the lake—where “getting the tea” on dating, friends, and future plans flowed easier over lattes and chai than it ever would have in our living room.

Coffee has become more than caffeine for us. It’s a catalyst. A reason to sit across from each other without distractions. A way to turn an ordinary Saturday into something memorable. A bridge between generations, where kids feel like equals and parents feel like companions, not lecturers. It reminds me that connection doesn’t always require a big event or a family vacation—sometimes it just takes a walk, a warm/cold cup, and a willingness to talk.

Families need rituals, little habits that force us to pause and really see each other. For my family, it’s coffee. For someone else, it might be board games (Oh, we love a good game of Catan or Ticket to Ride), long drives, or Saturday pancakes. The activity itself doesn’t matter as much as what it creates: space to be honest, space to laugh, space to share the things we’d otherwise keep tucked away.

Wherever life takes me—whether it’s here in Chicago, up in Door County, or somewhere I haven’t imagined yet—I hope there’s always a coffee shop within reach. Not because I can’t live without caffeine, but because I need the ritual. Those walks, those drives, those cups in hand—they’ve become the way I stay connected to the people I love most. And I don’t ever want to lose that.