When I Was Ten …

Posted on by Mark Aldrich

The child has few memories, so those he has are detailed.

We were in my hometown for some reason one summer Sunday afternoon a couple years ago and I said to my girlfriend that I wanted to show her where I grew up. (As if adulthood is a condition I suffer from or enjoy.) We drove down roads I used to bike on, walk on.

I grew up in the suburbs, in upstate New York, in the 1970s and ’80s, a neighborhood without sidewalks, where kids biked across their neighbors’ lawns (well, I did) without fear of criticism. (Well, I wasn’t.) I remember that I knew which houses had dogs that were poorly restrained (so I could avoid those lawns or else find a new speed in my pumping little legs) and which houses were simply scary for reasons no one could explain but everyone knew which houses simply seemed scary.
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January 25 in History

Posted on by Mark Aldrich

Robert Burns was born on this date in 1759 in Alloway, Ayrshire, Scotland. The poet only lived 37 years, but his works live on, recited by people who do not know the quotes are from the pen of the national poet of Scotland: “Auld Lang Syne,” “A Red, Red Rose” (“O my Luve’s like a red, red rose/That’s newly sprung in June;/O my Luve’s like the melodie/That’s sweetly play’d in tune”), “Tam o’Shanter.”

In 1801, a few years after his death, his friends came together to celebrate his life. The celebration of his life was held on his birthday, January 25, and every year since 1803, “Burns Suppers” or “Burns’ Nights” have grown in popularity. They are celebrated around the world.

Dinner is always a haggis, a savory meat pudding similar to (but superior to, I have been assured by those who know) scrapple or andouillette. After it is brought in, an attendee recites Burns’ “Address to a Haggis,” seen here after the jump:
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January 24 in History

Posted on by Mark Aldrich

A candy store owner in Onawa, Iowa, Christian Nelson, was confronted one summer day in 1920 with a most challenging customer: a little boy who could not decide between an ice cream or a chocolate bar and could not afford both.

Nelson spent the next year in a (mostly enjoyable) search for a method by which he could coat ice cream with chocolate. In 1921, he started selling “I-Scream Bars,” and he applied for a patent for his invention. An Iowa confectioner named Russell Stover (he was a real person) agreed to mass-produce Nelson’s creation but under a name that Mrs. Russell Stover devised: “Eskimo Pie.”

On this date in 1922, Nelson was awarded Patent Number 1,404,539 for “the production of a commercially practical coated brick or block of ice cream or the like.” The Eskimo Pie is 95 today. (Not the original one. That one is long gone.)
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