Saturdays

I remember the time that feels like the first time my parents left me at my grandparents. I sobbed at the sliding glass door staring as my parents pulled away. Gramma Ebey swooped down and scooped me up. She headed straight to the kitchen. Grampa laid out paper plates with German wieners, yes wieners, sauerkraut, sliced cucumber, and bell pepper sticks. Best of all, we got to sample all kinds of sweet and spicy mustards. 

To this day, I have no idea why we ate on paper plates. But every Saturday, my parents dropped my brother and me off at Gramma and Grampa’s for the night, and every Saturday, we ate the exact same thing on paper plates. I loved Saturdays.

After dinner, I helped Gramma Ebey play Solitaire. Obviously, I was instrumental in her success. I’d sit on the world’s comfiest green-striped lounge chair running my hands down the seams to collect Chex mix crumbs. (God, I hope I didn’t eat the crumbs. I don’t remember that part.) 

When what to my wondering eyes did appear, but a giant—at least 20 oz—root beer float. Every. Saturday. Grampa was a master float-maker. He’d bring them out with this mischievous look, and Gramma would smile with surprised delight. Grampa always had the perfect ratio of root beer to ice cream. And just enough foam to feel magic but not so much as to postpone the float’s true prize. We’d all spoon and slurp up our floats while watching either—and I’m ashamed to say this—The Commish or Walker, Texas Ranger. I felt like the luckiest kid in the world.

I’m a vegetarian now, so no wieners for me. At least not that kind of wiener. But I do still indulge in root beer floats from time to time. I get the best vanilla ice cream I can afford and pair it with half a Henry Weinhard’s root beer—saving the other half for sipping. It brings me straight back to my grandparents’. And if I don’t have those ingredients on hand, a cup of Evening in Missoula herbal tea does the trick. I know that sounds incongruous. But it has this sarsaparilla flavor that creates the same comfort in a pinch.