Each and every morning, before I left for my cruise and now since we came back home, I do something that is
fun to me, but also very important to another member of my family.
I make a milkshake—or what I call a milkshake—for my mother to drink, each and every day.
My mom lost 19 pounds over the course of a year—no cancer, just age related—and being that she is of small frame to begin with, losing 19 pounds is a lot of weight to get rid of, especially when she was not dieting.
So in addition to inserting better eating habits into her day, and eating things to bulk her up, one of the things that we have been given the doctor’s OK to do is to give her shakes each day.
So far it is working; she has regained seven pounds of the poundage that she had lost.
Funny, shakes are a part of my family’s legacy, in a weird sort of way.
My father always loved shakes.
It got to the point where he bought a milk shake maker in the early to mid-1960s, and every time he had a chance, he would make himself s shake.
He was a former heavy smoker, and food became his substitute for cigarettes, and he just loved ice cream, so a shake was a natural for him …
That is until his weight ballooned and he had to stop drinking them almost as soon as he got the milkshake maker.
But that did not stop his obsession with shakes by any means.
When we moved to Rochdale Village in South Jamaica, Queens, New York, my father was very active in the youth sports programs that were offered there, namely the Rochdale Village Athletic League (RVAL).
He coached baseball for several years, and was very successful in doing so, winning a championship or two along the way.
Along with having some good players on the team—not me, unfortunately, although I did get better as I got older—he had another secret to his success that the players loved, but the officials of the league absolutely hated.
When we won a game, he would take all of us to the local Carvel and buy each and every one of us shakes as a reward for our success.
If we lost, we got bupkis, nothing.
And he would buy for the entire entourage, which meant that not only did he buy shakes for the players—at least 10 to 15 of us—but he would buy for anybody else who tagged along, and of course, he would buy for himself.
Back in those days, 20 shakes would probably cost you about $25 or so, and that was a lot of money back in 1969, but it made us a better team, because we wanted those shakes.
League officials hated it—they looked at it as a bribe—and they told him so on several occasions, but he persisted.
It was his way of rewarding us for playing so well, and league officials threatening him was not going to work, not when a shake was involved.
And we loved it!
Fast forward more than 50 years to today, and that shake that I make each day is benefitting my mother greatly.
It really isn’t a true shake per se—just ice cream, some milk, and some Oreo cookies mixed in for good measure—but it is good enough for what she needs it for.
And my mother kind of likes it, which makes the whole thing better.
So each day, I get out the ice cream and the milk and the cookies and the cup and the spoon and another cup to pour the concoction in, and I go about making my mother’s daily treat, a treat which is fun but is also helping her get up her weight.
When I make this thing each day, I do believe that my father is looking down at me and smiling … the shake legacy continues!
And one extra benefit for me, in addition to helping my mother out, is this:
I get to lick the spoon after the thing is all stirred up and ready to go.
I have to tell you, what is left on the spoon tastes pretty good!
Not as good as those Carvel shakes tasted more than 50 years ago, but good enough for what we need it for.
I make a milkshake—or what I call a milkshake—for my mother to drink, each and every day.
My mom lost 19 pounds over the course of a year—no cancer, just age related—and being that she is of small frame to begin with, losing 19 pounds is a lot of weight to get rid of, especially when she was not dieting.
So in addition to inserting better eating habits into her day, and eating things to bulk her up, one of the things that we have been given the doctor’s OK to do is to give her shakes each day.
So far it is working; she has regained seven pounds of the poundage that she had lost.
Funny, shakes are a part of my family’s legacy, in a weird sort of way.
My father always loved shakes.
It got to the point where he bought a milk shake maker in the early to mid-1960s, and every time he had a chance, he would make himself s shake.
He was a former heavy smoker, and food became his substitute for cigarettes, and he just loved ice cream, so a shake was a natural for him …
That is until his weight ballooned and he had to stop drinking them almost as soon as he got the milkshake maker.
But that did not stop his obsession with shakes by any means.
When we moved to Rochdale Village in South Jamaica, Queens, New York, my father was very active in the youth sports programs that were offered there, namely the Rochdale Village Athletic League (RVAL).
He coached baseball for several years, and was very successful in doing so, winning a championship or two along the way.
Along with having some good players on the team—not me, unfortunately, although I did get better as I got older—he had another secret to his success that the players loved, but the officials of the league absolutely hated.
When we won a game, he would take all of us to the local Carvel and buy each and every one of us shakes as a reward for our success.
If we lost, we got bupkis, nothing.
And he would buy for the entire entourage, which meant that not only did he buy shakes for the players—at least 10 to 15 of us—but he would buy for anybody else who tagged along, and of course, he would buy for himself.
Back in those days, 20 shakes would probably cost you about $25 or so, and that was a lot of money back in 1969, but it made us a better team, because we wanted those shakes.
League officials hated it—they looked at it as a bribe—and they told him so on several occasions, but he persisted.
It was his way of rewarding us for playing so well, and league officials threatening him was not going to work, not when a shake was involved.
And we loved it!
Fast forward more than 50 years to today, and that shake that I make each day is benefitting my mother greatly.
It really isn’t a true shake per se—just ice cream, some milk, and some Oreo cookies mixed in for good measure—but it is good enough for what she needs it for.
And my mother kind of likes it, which makes the whole thing better.
So each day, I get out the ice cream and the milk and the cookies and the cup and the spoon and another cup to pour the concoction in, and I go about making my mother’s daily treat, a treat which is fun but is also helping her get up her weight.
When I make this thing each day, I do believe that my father is looking down at me and smiling … the shake legacy continues!
And one extra benefit for me, in addition to helping my mother out, is this:
I get to lick the spoon after the thing is all stirred up and ready to go.
I have to tell you, what is left on the spoon tastes pretty good!
Not as good as those Carvel shakes tasted more than 50 years ago, but good enough for what we need it for.
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