When I was in elementary school (to be specific, it was fifth grade, Mr. Dilly’s class ((if he heard you call him Mr. Dilly Bar you better run))). Ruth Dawson sat in the next row, and her parents owned Dawson’s Corner Market, a classic little joint that carried a shelf of bread, a shelf of condiments, a meat counter, and, I kid you not, two aisles of candy. As a fifth grader, it was my idea of Heaven.
Every day, I would give Ruth a quarter. The following day she would reward my quarter with a can of Fresca! If you’ve never had a Fresca, you’re missing out. It’s effervescence in a can.
Fast forward to 20 years later and I’m hard at work in the newsroom, keeping my head low, trying to avoid being drawn into the wise-cracking wisdom (b.s.) being volleyed about by the producers in the center of the room.
At some point, someone commented that I was like a Fresca. After all those years of devotion to this magic in a can (which the producers knew nothing about), someone had likened me to potion of pop. To this day, I consider it the greatest compliment I have ever received.
