Much of my early childhood summer days were spent in the pool. And this was the summer I first learned how to swim. I started off with learning how to do the “hold and kick”. But I couldn’t, for the life of me, put my head under. I was terrified to do so. Knowing this, my cousin picked me up and dunked me upside down, head first into the water (into my three ft. pool). My little arms and legs writhed in terror to find my way up back to the surface. When I did, I found him cracking up like it was the funniest thing ever. And I’d scream and cry thinking that I had almost drowned and died. Then, he’d get yelled at by my grandma, and yada yada…the usual older kid/younger kid growing up battles.
After swimming, he’d often endeavor into creating frozen treats, milkshakes sticking out as the more memorable ones.
Back then, my mom would always buy a carton of Dryer’s ice cream in either vanilla or strawberry. I’d always get bummed when she bought the strawberry one, with the little frozen chunks of strawberries in it. Well, one day after swimming, my cousin got the blender (which only the adults were allowed to play with) and got to work. He scooped the strawberry ice cream into the blender, added some milk, and blended. The end result was a delicious mess. It was cold. It was sweet. It was sticky. It was everything a snot nosed, sticky fingered child in the 80's would love. Sure, he got drips of strawberry ice cream and milk all over the table and got yelled at by our grandma (as usual). But for my six year old-sweets-loving palate, I was in heaven. My mother was pretty strict about junk food and only allowed restricted amounts every now and then. So in the rare moments that I got to indulge, I indulged to the fullest (and often snuck around to do what I had to do to satiate my sweets cravings).
That was my first experience with milkshakes. And throughout the rest of my childhood, I’d get a shimmy at the mention of milkshakes. But as I got older, milkshakes didn't really have the same effect on me as it once did. These days, I might crave a milkshake every couple of years or so. But it is far from making me jump for joy as the six year old me once did.
Well, fast forward some decades later and enter Bernie, a grown man who is hit with the same effect that milkshakes used to have on me as a kid.