By Barry R Evans
The holidays are over, so I imagine that many people are sitting back and thinking about the presents they gave and got. It so happens that I am thinking about one that our youngest son, Craig and his wife, Julie gave me. When I picked it up, I thought that “boy, this is a little heavy for its size”. Well, I opened it and it was a six pack of pop!
Now this was not a six pack of mediocre canned pop. No sir, this was six bottles of root beer. All of the bottles were different as it was a vintage collection with the king of bottles being a Gene Autry brand root beer. Now the rest of you be honest – how many of you can say that you received a bottle of root beer of that magnitude? I may have the only bottle in all of The Villages.
Those of you who read the above carefully may note that I indicated that I had received a six pack of “pop.” Pop, obviously is the proper term for such drinks. I grew up in Western Pennsylvania about 65 miles north of Pittsburgh where I went to high school and college. In all of that area and as far west as I could see it was pop. When you went into the drugstore and said that you wanted a root beer, they gave you a glass with world class root beer. It should be noted further that it was served in a real glass and not the flimsy paper cups they now use.
In addition, when you asked for a root beer soda, they gave you a great big glass with at least two scoops of ice cream floating in the root beer. It came to pass, that a fraternity brother and I decided to go to graduate school clear across the state to Philadelphia. We had not been there long when we decided to go to a nearby drugstore where we both ordered root beer sodas and were handed glasses of root beer with no ice cream in sight. We were nonplused and asked what happened to the ice cream?
The server noted rather haughtily that we had ordered sodas and if we wanted ice cream then we should have asked for an ice cream soda. We mulled this over for some time and came to the conclusion that the air on the east side of the Allegheny Mountains was somehow lacking in the proper nourishment needed by the mind. Some people still to this very day try to claim that “soda” is the proper term and not “pop”. One fellow in the Villages that I know is very persistent about the matter. I told him that when he could take me to Publix and show me “sodasicles” instead of “popsicles” that I might concede. Haven’t had to yet!
This was not the only time the East Coast did me in. Many years later, our oldest son, Bruce determined to go to graduate school in Boston where he still resides and became a Red Sox fan instead of a Pirate fan as he had been properly raised. However, that it another story! We visited him there, and we were in a restaurant when I ordered a chocolate milkshake. What came back was a glass of milk with some powdered chocolate stirred in. In this case, I was informed that I should have ordered a frappe.
Now who in their right mind is going to order a “frappe” when what they want is a milkshake? Even the term “frappe” sounds … well, I don’t know exactly what, but whatever it is, it is not good. I am certain that some of you have gone to the area around Boston, or perhaps even escaped from there. Such being the case, you will have to admit that you have never seen a restaurant called “Steak & Frappe”. I believe that I am correct on that. Perhaps, “Franks and Frappe” might work as I like hot dogs, but if I do go to such a place I would order some pop to go with the dogs. I would probably ask for birch beer.
Birch beer is hard to get down this way. Some even think that it is a type of root beer, but it has a distinctive taste all its own. Actually, I did find some the other day, surprisingly at the Ace Hardware on 466. If you go there, just ask where the birch beer is, and don’t ask for the location of the pop. If you do, my friend might be hanging around and he will give the tiresome “soda” spiel, and you never will get to enjoy the drink.
All this has made me hungry. There is some ice cream in the refrigerator so I will just make a birch beer soda (and save the Autry root beer for later). You know, perhaps the Blonde in the house might make it for me!
Life in The Villages is good!
Barry Evans is a resident of The Villages.