Sweet and Sour Reflections

My wife and I relish the enjoyment of a Jamba Juice. Cold, slushy and tangy joy, whipped and poured into the Styrofoam cups. These fruity treats are primarily a Western enjoyment, which I grew to love while attending school in Utah. In time I introduced my wife to their addictive lure and we have become aficionados ever since. Meal replacement, cold buster, after-meal treat, we began to no longer need a reason to stand in front of the menu and construct our pleasure. Do I want primarily peaches or mangos tonight? What about something creamy? In the mood for berries? Then you decide size and eventually those mysterious ‘boosters’ that dull the feelings of guilt and turn treat into preventive medicine. “Yes…I’ll take the regular Caribbean Passion with an immunity boost.”

Finally you give your name in to the sales clerk. Like a badge of honor – or a permission slip that finally asserts your permission to partake. Occasionally I liked to torment them with my real name. Other times I hid behind a moniker, both for simplicity, anonymity and the pure enjoyment of grabbing my creation when they call out “Thor – your Peach Pleasure. Thor!” I also used it as a way to cement relationships. Yes these two drinks our OURS, please use her name.

You watch the fruit alchemists from behind the glass scooping, mixing, dolling out juice and finally blending. There is an art to removing the blending jar, hitting it a little to remix and setting the insides back in a whir. Then the distinctive smack-smack-smack as they bully the concoction out with the palm of their hand.

The first sip is the best. A guessing game, millennial celebration and lottery for your taste buds. You can taste the tang, the coldness, the sweet fruit, the crystals. A complex mix of what you love. Not as good in its parts perhaps, but brilliant in its whole.

There is a (Shhhhh) secret menu at Jamba Juice. Like a speakeasy door greeting. Look around for any eavesdroppers, mention you know about the secret drinks. Then I ask for the non-listed drinks with a wink and an elbow. I’ve even seen those double-encoded, burn after reading, secret instructions. Names like White Gummy Bear, Fruity Pebbles and Skittles. The secret, double agent life of fruit sherbet.

Amy and I treated ourselves to three of these treats in our 2 and 2 half days in Utah this weekend. The New Year’s Eve passing of my grandmother occasioned a long flight on a miserable airline across country into Salt Lake. We met far flung cousins and even immediate family as we gathered in sacred but jovial communion over our late matriarch. Funerals for me have generally been uplifting, celebratory occasions, as we mark the life and love of our loved-one. What a treat to get together and remember the good and generally funny.

I have been especially treated to have known June Searle. A strong, intelligent, hard-working and humorous woman. Raised through depression, married in war, and prospered in America she is the epitome of the all-American, 20th Century woman. Raising four fantastic children – including the youngest my mother – she went on after to earn her Bachelors and Masters degrees in education. Pursue and earn a PHD in the winter of her life. And touch the lives of thousands. I cannot honor her enough with the tales of her success, love and sacrifice for others. But I can make her the excellent example for my daughters. What more can a father ask for in a shining beacon of virtue, honor, life and priorities.

She was much like those little drinks I enjoy. A mix of complicated ingredients blended into a sweet, slightly tangy concoction. She even had her hidden successes. But having lived with her, Amy and I have come to love and enjoy the sweet nourishment that came from being near her.