Bite off the bottom last

It all began yesterday when I was talking to Delores.  She's Myrt Burnett's daughter, and she knows what it's like to have brothers.  

I do have sisters, but the first 12 years of my life were spent being the girl with two older brothers.

So, I can relate to various stages in the family dynamics.  

Before I go further, I'll simply identify most of the people in the photo.  That's me on the left, then my mother, then some talkative nice lady from Burnt Ranch, Calif.  My three brothers are to my left:  Jim (the youngest sibling), Kevin and Mike.

We went on a family journey together back in 2004.  Among other places, it took us to Burnt Ranch, where my mother spent some of her early childhood years.  

The unnamed lady in the photo was quite happy to tell us everything she knew about the place, located in the mountains and the Trinity River drainage.

Before moving to Burnt Ranch and even spending some time living in San Francisco, my mother lived near Wallace, ID.  And, that knowledge turned on a light bulb when I was talking to Delores.

 She told me how her mother spent her early childhood in Rose Lake before moving to Coeur d'Alene.  Well, Mother has often talked about trips to Rose Lake among her scattered memories as a small child.  

When I brought up the conversation about Myrt's beginnings in Rose Lake, Mother said, "Oh yes, we've talked about that."  They're about 3.5 years apart in age, so Myrt could have still been there at the same time Mother was hanging out in the area.

In our afternoon visit, Mother also told me about the ice cream cone.  It was her first ever.  Her dad had driven her to Rose Lake from the farm where they were living at the time.  

She remembers the car having a big wide running board and that there were a lot of people at the store that day.  She thinks there may have been a drowning in the lake, bringing the traffic through the area.

Her dad bought her the first ice cream cone she had ever seen.  So, she took it to the car, stood on the running board and bit off the bottom of the cone.  It wasn't long before ice cream was melting and dripping all over the car's running board.

"I don't know why that stands out so much in my memory," she told me.  She did learn to wait until the end to eat the bottom of ice cream cones.

I wasted no time recalling to her a somewhat similar story that stands out in my memory.  Mother, my two older brothers and I were enroute to Michigan in our brand-new 1958 Ford ranchwagon.  

That was the era of the Big Boy Restaurants, and that was the era when they sold 10 hamburgers for a dollar.  We were in Northern Michigan.  It was lunch time, and we spotted a Big Boy. 

Mother pulled in.  Besides all those Big Boys (I told Bill this morning that our crew could have easily finished off $2 worth of those Big Boys cuz we were human pigs), we ordered milk shakes.  

I selected strawberry.  I don't remember enjoying one sip of that milk shake.  What I do remember is spilling it all over the back seat, and I do remember Mother being a little mad (no exaggeration here) about the mess in the new car.  

I lived through it, and so did the car.  But I never forgot the experience. 

I also never forgot the time when I was a first grader and Helen Crockett took me to Bonners Ferry where her daughter Sally was cheering at a basketball game.  Afterward, we went to a restaurant for a burger and coke.

When I opened the ketchup bottle to pour some on my burger, the contents flowed as if a dam had burst.  I enjoyed a little hamburger with my ketchup that day.  And, never forgot the awkwardness of the experience.

I'm also sure that my son Willie and all present never have forgotten the chicken fondue experience at the Daarstad house.  

Willie was young at the time and had no idea that the raw chicken should be dipped in the hot fondue oil before eating it.  

We all got a good laugh and Willie learned an instant lesson about fondue.

Anyway, it's amazing how a few facts, blasted from the past, will conjure up even more good stories.  

In these cases, the awkward moments of life and eating----all good anecdotes and good memories---even if they turn good after the fact.

~~~

Doggies are here, so I must go.  Your assignment:  comment on your awkward memories.  

They make books out of this stuff, ya know!

Happy Thursday.