Dearest Rachel –
So yesterday being Father’s Day, there’s a bit of a tradition at church to give out little presents to the honorees. With the moms last month, it was these little bundt cakes; for us dads, there were ice cold bottles of Mexican Coca-Cola. Personally, I thought it was more appropriate when they would hand out Dad’s Root Beer (for one, because it’s a locally-brewed brand, and for another… because Father’s Day, not to mention that it’s the perfect dad joke), but I do have to acknowledge that that particular beverage can be considered an acquired taste.
Speaking of taste, I’ve been reliably informed that the Mexican version of Coca-Cola is supposed to taste better, or be better for you, because it’s sweetened with cane sugar, as opposed to high fructose corn syrup. To be honest, though, I can’t say that I can tell the difference between the Mexican and American Coke. I’m reasonably sure I could differentiate either of them from, say, Pepsi (although I might have a bit more difficulty in a head-to-head comparison against RC), but to say one tastes better – or even different – than the other is a tall ask for my taste buds.
Likewise, I find it hard to believe that ‘real’ sugar is healthier than HFCS, although using the acronym makes it sound so much scarier and more artificial than it deserves. I’m old enough to still remember when it was sugar that was considered an undesirably dangerous ingredient, and it was thought that fructose, being made primarily from fruit (hence the name), and being a monosaccharide, would be likely that much easier to break down, and thus healthier than the disaccharide that is sucrose (a.k.a. table sugar, whether from cane or beets). Granted, I get that science marches on – it’s never ‘settled,’ regardless of what people who consider themselves to be ‘The Science’ might think these days – and what we thought was true forty years ago – or even a year or two ago – could be completely wrong. It may be that it takes more fructose to replicate the sweetness of sucrose, thus negating the supposed health benefits of the ease of internal processing – something that wasn’t taken into consideration at the time it was touted as an improvement.
Regardless of any purported health benefits either way, the fact of the matter is that I can’t taste the difference – which I’m sure the Coca-Cola Company is glad of, as they would just as soon use the cheaper HFCS wherever they can. They may not be able to alter the rest of the formula, but they got away with this swap somewhere between my childhood and adulthood with me (and the most of the American public) none the wiser. It’s all still the Real Thing, as far as I can tell.
***
As Daniel and I wandered out of church early yesterday afternoon, with me taking those first few swigs from my bottle and coming to this mildly depressing conclusion, someone who I didn’t recognize came up to us, and asked us for a word once we were done talking to Kerstin, who had Joined Daniel while I was in the booth this weekend. Since the conversation between the three of us was rather open-ended, and we only had so much time before we had to meet the family for dinner (because, you know, Father’s Day), Kerstin granted us leave to chat with Mrs. B about… whatever it was she wanted to talk to us about.
I’m hesitant to drop last names when I write to you, since other people are reading over our shoulder, honey, but I’ll point out that her daughter-in-law headed up the children’s ministry at our campus until recently, and she herself, if I understood correctly, would occasionally assist with babysitting during the Wednesday morning mother’s Bible study alongside you. However, she doesn’t attend the church with any regularity, but decided to come today; among other things, she had to offer us some thanks (although my part in this appeared to be a case of accepting it in lieu of yourself).
She told us about a time maybe five years ago or so, when her son was… in trouble (I’ll say no more about that – if you remember, you remember)… and she needed prayer for him. The study leader called upon people to come up and pray for her and her son, laying hands on her, all while everyone’s heads were bowed and eyes were closed. It seems that, while she didn’t know who was placing their hands on her, as she could feel God‘s spirit flowing into her, as if it was being transmitted by those hands. After the prayer, she looked up to discover you and Daniel on either side of her with your hands on her shoulders. She’d never experienced His presence that way before or since, and wanted Daniel – and me, in your stead – to know about this, and how grateful she was for it.
Oh, and for the record, her son was returned to her at some point during the epidemic – in a way, some good came of it for her. So as far as she was concerned, you two gave her a dose of the Real Thing in your own way – although, as Daniel did (and you taught him well), you would probably deny you had anything to do with it, apart from being the necessary conduit at the right place and time. Still, since these thanks were mean for you and not me, I thought it needed to be told to you.
For my part, I’m not sure I would ever have been able to accomplish that. Like with my taste buds, I’m not sure that I’m able to sense that sort of thing the way you were and he is. It’s just as well you taught him, as he can fill your shoes on these occasions. Now, if only we could have taught him how to politely extricate himself from these sorts of conversations – we were late to the family gathering by a good twenty minutes.
Anyway, that was our day yesterday. For now, keep an eye on us, honey, and wish us luck; we’re going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 