Carnett: A new reason to down high-octane java

A cup of morning joe is to this writer what a bottle of oxygen must have been to a U-2 jet jockey.

A lifesaver.

Anyone remember the U-2 incident in May 1960, when an American pilot, Francis Gary Powers, was shot out of the skies over the Soviet Union?

Powers survived the crash but was held prisoner by the Ruskies for two years.

The U-2 spy plane flew at altitudes exceeding 70,000 feet. Oxygen was indispensable.

Coffee, it seems to me, is equally indispensable for many wannabe Hemingways, Halberstams and Menckens who brood over legal pads or laptops.

Before my retirement seven years ago, a personalized coffee mug was not to be found on my cluttered desk.

No “World’s Best Dad”- or “Coffee, Tea or Me?”-etched earthenware ever graced my cubicle. Nor did I ever accidentally dump a goblet of Guatemalan Golden grind into my keyboard.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t a caffeine hound during my 37 years as Orange Coast College’s PR director. I was. But my beverage of choice for fending off writer’s block was Diet Coke.

I must confess that on an occasion or two I might have accidentally fumbled a can of fizzy, russet-hued liquid into my desktop.

Nine years ago, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, a progressive neurological disorder. Parkinson’s patients exhibit such symptoms as tremors, slowness of movement, rigidity, loss of facial mobility and balance difficulties. It’s been reported in at least one study that two to four cups of coffee a day may ameliorate some symptoms.

Ergo, I’ve become a devotee of high-octane morning jolt.

I indulge my new passion seven days a week, though I’ve yet to notice any discernible change in motor skills. Still, I’ve become a java adherent who savors his ante meridian (a.m.) habit.

But clutching just any old coffee mug is quite literally a challenge for me. My hands and fingers are temperamental, mulish even. They can be unsteady when grasping a mug.

A cup with a small handle that accommodates only two fingers is impossible. No raised pinkies for this cowboy.

Hand tremors result in unacceptable wastage. An enduring personal goal of mine is to get a higher percentage of the brunette elixir into my mouth than on my shirt.

I require a handle that accommodates a four-finger grip. My thumb must rest at the mug’s rim. Even a three-finger approach invites disaster.

A few weeks ago my wife, Hedy, and I spent five days in the spectacular Red Rock Country of Sedona, Ariz.

We visited Sedona briefly for the first time a year ago, spending a few hours in the charming village. We ate a late breakfast at the Coffee Pot Restaurant, where coffee is served there in lovely hand-thrown mugs. In fact, the mugs felt so comfortable in my grip that I decided to purchase one — for $12 — in the restaurant’s gift shop.

That mug soon became our household’s most prized piece of crockery. When Hedy and I returned to Sedona a few weeks back, I was eager to purchase three more mugs, completing our set.

Hedy and I had a wonderful stay and successfully avoided being swallowed by a Sedona vortex. In fact, never once did I hear a terrifying sucking sound one might associate with the phenomenon.

We flew from Orange County to Phoenix and drove two hours north on Interstate 17 to Sedona. We actually stayed in the Village of Oak Creek, a charming community three miles south of Sedona.

We breakfasted two mornings at the Coffee Pot. It sits less than a mile from a dramatic red rock formation of the same name. The restaurant offers a huge assortment of omelets, plus cupfuls of robust Colombian mud.

We also ate meals at the quirky Red Planet Diner, the Javelina Cantina and at Famous Pizza.

We went off-roading to visit impressive ancient ruins and petroglyphs of the Sinagua people. And we visited the old mining town of Jerome.

My prized new coffee mugs remind me daily of our excellent adventure.

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.