Maybe we shouldn't go there. On the other hand, I can't think about my Mississippi summers without including Yoohoo, Nehi Grape, Orange Crush, and those 10 oz. bottles of Coca-Cola my grandmother lined the door of the refrigerator with when we'd show up to visit.Then there was the lemonade drink my dad made every summer, no matter where we lived. I remember it in D.C. the best, in the same house that Franny grows up in, in this new novel.
Crushed ice in the blender along with a can of frozen lemonade and extra sugar. That what the kids got. Then, Dad made an extra batch for he and Mom, to which he added a jigger of Canadian Club.
You could write a scene from a memory like this, couldn't you? I challenge you to that scene. I'll write one, too.I've been saving these bottles for a long time. I'm going to have fun arranging them, and remembering.
