My favorite thing to do in the summer when I was growing up was that my parents would take me from Ishpeming to Minneapolis where my grandmother lived. My mother’s mother. She was a little bitty woman who had had red hair. She had come down from Winnipeg for what reason I have no idea, I wish I did. Her name was Sarah Mable. In the afternoon in the middle of the summer, when it was hot in Minneapolis, every single afternoon we sat down at three o’clock and split a bottle of Nesbit’s orange. She had a wonderful porch and I loved to curl up on the swing and read. And I thought that my parents must miss me terribly, until I had children. Then I understood.
[Nesbit orange was about 8 ounces or what?]
Well, it was a pop bottle, you know, like a Coke bottle. Two glasses, meticulously split. Always at three o’clock in the afternoon.