We were sitting around the kitchen table talking about whelks (large snail-like shell-fish that most folks call conch). Jim easily poured out stories of harvesting these and other shells for his business. We learned that the whelk is cannibalistic, feeding on its own species as well as any other shell-fish that ventures into its path. He described how the leathery operculum seals the shell against intruders but permits extension of the massive muscular foot to enfold a clam victim. Once the clam is ensnared the whelk uses the edge of its shell to wedge open the bivalve and then plunge its nose or mouth organ into the clam, sucking out the edible portion, not unlike an oyster shucker freeing the oyster from its shell.
"How about some ice cream?", he asked.
"Sure"
And forthcoming was an enormous serving from the freezer. If you looked inside you will find not one carton but perhaps as many as four. Jim clearly doesn't intend to run out of ice cream.
And the way he ate his portion was revealing of how he viewed this delicacy. Ice cream was not always a part of his diet. In fact, except for an occasional cone, ice cream didn't really exist until after he reached the ripe old age of 70 plus.
How could this be since he had at one time had a dairy and of course there were chickens. So with cream and eggs so readily available, why not ice cream. You have to consider the times. This was in the early 40's. Missing were the other ingredients; sugar (it was both rationed and expensive), and ice (had to be delivered or picked up at the ice-house). And, of course, one needed an ice cream freezer. Considering that one cost twenty five or thirty dollars which was equivalent to pay from one hundred hours of labor or so, the freezer was out of the question.
We talked briefly of this and he remembered the mystical smell of the old "ice-box" where the ice-man put the ice. This wooden contrivance with zinc lining, had provisions for putting a block of ice in the top. The designer had recognized that cold air is heavier than warm, so as the ice melted, a fog of cold air descended, encompassing the milk and other perishables in the box and holding them at near 32 degrees. And there was a "drip" pan that had to be emptied each day, otherwise water would be all over the floor. (In some houses, the simple expedient of drilling a hole through the floor and letting the water go to points unknown was the preferred method in handling this otherwise constant chore.) The smell of the ice box was at once; dank, musty, heavy and yet pleasant.
The ice man "read" a card displayed in the front window. On the card was marked in clear bold numbers; 25, 50, 75 and 100. Dependent upon the number at the top, he knew how much ice to carry up to the house. He chipped off a larger block, along the lines that indicated point of separation, the amount required; with his hook, (a pincher like device) he shouldered the cube, resting it on his back on the leather shoulder protector and delivered the ice to the box.
Now we have pretty containers of ice cream in a variety of flavors, ready to be served right from our very own freezer. But the past is hard to disremember.
Jim savored each bite. Waiting until that which was on the outer fringes to soften and then he carefully removed it with his spoon and slowly raised it to his mouth. I enjoy ice cream but not nearly as much as Jim. I matched his movements and paced myself so that we would reach the end of our bowls at the same time. Eating ice cream this way, revealed one additional pleasure. A small piece of fruit embedded in the mass is frozen solid because it does not contain the sugars and high fat content of the ice cream. Accordingly, when one locates a sliver of peach, if it is freed and then eaten quickly; sometimes one experiences the sudden "cold" pain that shoots from between the eyes to somewhere in the brain. It is hard to describe this as a pleasure, but it is.
Jim is now eighty three. How much has changed since he was born in 1916. His family was poor. This was not a disgrace, just recognition of the times. The world had just experienced a depression and was in a war on a scale unknown before. And if that was not enough, the "Great Flu Epidemic" occurred. (Martha and I remember walking through a cemetery to the south of Tallahassee and finding oak trees growing in the center of graves. The trees being large, so large that one could not reach around them. And all the graves were before 1917. None after. Entire communities were wiped out, and there in this cemetery was the evidence in stone.) It was not at all uncommon for a family blessed with children but having not the means of feeding or clothing them, to "give" them to a family that could provide. This was charity at its best, for often the recipients had no children and this was a blessing. Jim and his sister were given to two couples that were related and through the years, they had the benefit of good homes as well as still retaining a sense of family. Times were not easy for Jim's new family either. Work was hard to come by and while much is written about going West, a similar movement filled the fishing villages of Florida. Times were hard when the "new" family settled in Sarasota!
I remembered a tale by my mother describing the 30's. She and "Albert" (my father), saw a silver dollar in the middle of the road. "It was as big as a wagon wheel." Such was the substance of a "find".
So Jim grew up during this time in our country's history and he remembers how hard it was. This is part and parcel of why to this day, he "hoards". This is not said as an unkindness, rather it is just recognition that he remembers how essential it is to be independent. If you looked in his closet you may perhaps find a store of food adequate for not only Jim but his extended family as well. Some might say, it's because of the hype about YK2, or concern of how the country will get through the beginning of the next millennium. But Jim's reasoning goes further than that. No, he has seen how men suffered, how the government was unable to help, how families were torn apart and how unthinkable it might have been; for men to steal, cheat and even kill to survive. Trust in the Government and its paper money, the banks and stores? No way! Jim has seen how the Gypsy with her bangles of silver could barter them for necessities, how the Jew with his gems, stamps and coins could exchange them for food. So Jim likewise has invested some of his meager savings in coins. His thinking being that coins will have real value and being of small denomination, can be traded easily. Also, foreign coins may have more value than our own currency. How sad, but how true this may be!
Lest you think that these thoughts are unique to Jim, I again remember my own mother's hoard. Now she saved in a different way than Jim, but the intent was the same. During the Second World War, the country was rationed of such things as meat, sugar, coffee and other food items as well as automobile tires, gas, &c. To fairly allocate these necessities, "stamps" were issued by the Federal Government and everyone received their due. Since not everyone had a car or if you had a car, you might put it up on blocks to preserve the tires, some of the stamps might go unused, so bartering of stamps became the norm. Mom traded our surplus gas stamps for food stamps which she then used to buy sugar and coffee. Some five years after the war was over, she had a stash in the large square trunk in the dining room closet, a supply of sugar. And did she draw down from this inventory. Of course not, when she and dad needed sugar, she simply went to the A&P and bought more. Such was her trust of the Government. (As an added note. It is now believed that FDR's administration imposed stamps to reinforce in the public's mind that we were at war and everyone should make a contribution. In actual fact, there was no shortage of food, tires and gas maybe, but not food.)
Now our ice cream was nearing its end. Jim scraped the last traces of liquid from his bowl.
He asked, "Want more?"
(It was obvious that we both would enjoy refilling the bowls.)
"Next time", was my response, knowing that anticipation was a necessary element in properly savoring ice cream.
joew March 1, 1999 ****
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