Malted Nostalgia

 

In those long ago, almost forgotten days before Dairy Queen we found our debauch at the soda fountain in the corner drug store.

While the favored definition of “soda fountain” in current reference material points to the array of faucets that dispense various flavors of carbonated beverages, sixty or seventy years ago the term referred to the counter lined with swivel stools that occupied one side of the drugstore.

In the contextually accurate movie “The Music Man” we see Professor Howard Hill and Marian the Librarian seated at the soda fountain counter in the “pubic emporium” enjoying their beverages.

We, the young people in our neighborhood, ordered such favorites as cherry Coke, chocolate malts and vanilla milkshakes.

The Cokes cost a nickel, and the milkshakes were twenty-nine cents. The malts carried a premium price of thirty-nine cents.

Yesterday I was out and about in the mid-afternoon heat, and chose to treat my self to a chocolate malt.

Haven't enjoyed one for many years.

I anticipated an increase in the cost, in comparison to the long ago price. I was prepared to maybe pay as much as a dollar or two. I gave the clerk a five dollar bill, and took my change . . . thirty-six cents.

The malt was delicious. The memories were awesome. The lesson in economics was intimidating. And dismaying.