When I was a kid, I guess I drank a lot of milk. There was always milk in the refrigerator. It was usually a big gallon jug, as there were four people in my family, including two growing boys. My brother and I would have cereal nearly every morning and cereal required milk. Sometimes, after school or on a weekend afternoon, I'd pour a small glass of milk for myself, grab a few (or more than a few) Oreos from a package in the kitchen cupboard and have myself a quick, typically kid-friendly snack. However, if I think about it, most of the milk in our house was consumed by my father.
My father was a creature of habit. Once he did something, he would always have to do it. I suppose that started back in World War II, when, as a young seaman in the US Navy, he tried his first cigarette — and he never looked back. Cigarettes became a part of his daily routine right up until the day he died. He also always put his shoes and socks on first when he got dressed and then struggled to get his pant legs over his fully-clad feet. I don't know why he dressed in this order, but he did. He always did. My father also had a giant glass of chocolate milk and a Tastykake Chocolate Junior every night before he went to bed. It was as though he could not get to sleep without those two components. My father insisted that our kitchen was always stocked with milk, Hershey's Instant chocolate milk powder and a box of Tastykake Chocolate Juniors. The Tastykakes were usually hidden by my father so they would always be available for him and him alone. If, by chance, my brother or I would eat one, it had better not be the last one or we would suffer the wrath of one Harold Pincus deprived of his daily, late-night, pre-bedtime ritual. We were permitted to mix a spoonful of Hershey's Instant into our milk as long as enough remained for my father's milk, but if there were no Tastykake Chocolate Juniors around when my dad was ready to hit the sack — well, let's just say there better have been at least one. We seemed to go through a lot of Hershey's Instant in the Pincus house. Between my father, my brother and me, a one pound can never seemed to last very long. I remember the lid of the metal container had to be removed with the help of a crowbar, but a metal spoon handle would often suffice. The recommended two "heaping" teaspoons never delivered enough chocolate flavor for my liking and I would usually add a little bit more to my milk. I think I caught my father dropping up to three spoons worth of Hershey's Instant into his milk. His rationale being "I'm paying for the goddamn stuff. I'll use however much I goddamn please." My mom, who was in charge of keeping our kitchen's food inventory maintained, never allowed the Pincus house to be without Hershey's Instant.
I still have no desire to pour and drink a glass of milk. As a matter of fact, the thought of it is a little nauseating. I'll happily drink the few drops left at the bottom of my empty cereal bowl, but that's it. No big glasses of milk for me.
I will, however, eat a Tastykake Chocolate Junior if one is available. You know.... in honor of my dad. Yeah... that's it.
