DANIEL “THE SAN ANTONIO ROSE”

I am sitting here, cool as a cucumber as the hot sun burns my lawn to a crisp, just Netflix and chillin. This would not have been something that would have been experienced growing up as a child in the 1970’s. Now, I know I am showing my age but memories of the summers of my childhood come flooding back. The smell of Copper Tone and the song “Summer Breeze” blasting though the speaker of my blue transistor radio.

Picture it, 1972, San Antonio Texas, our recently built home did not have central air. What we had in the master bedroom was a swamp cooler! It was a huge unit that cooled the room with water. I can feel it now, I'm napping on top of the chenille bed spread and the cold air skimming my body. Waking up was certainly memorable because your clothes were damp and stuck to your skin. I was totally content which really means I did not know any better!

My favorite way to cool off was to take a trek downtown to the market square and get a snow cone, a Raspa! Raspa con nieve to be exact. This was a family adventure and, as soon as Dad gave the red light, we piled into the station wagon and off we’d go.

Riding in the station wagon was fun, it had blue glitter plastic upholstery that scalded my legs when I sat on it. Seat belts, no way, if we had a crash I would not be ejected because my legs were almost permanently stuck to the seat!

We arrived at our destination and parked across the street at Milam park. I got out slowly, carefully unsticking my thighs from the seat. I stopped to catch my breath, I looked up and there it was the aqua blue building was calling my name, the old screen door barely hanging on, the only thing keeping me from a taste of heaven.

I grabbed the hot metal handle and the door creaks as I open it, sounding like La Llorona when she lost her children.

I slowly step into the dark room; an Aztec calendar and a large picture of President Kenedy graces the cement walls.

I turn, as if I was seeing him for the first time. He is a small man, possibly in his early 80’s. He is standing behind a homemade wooden counter that has several holes on top to hold the paper cones, allowing him to make more than one raspa at a time.

I watch him pack the ice skillfully into the paper cone. He immediately Pours the colored syrup completely saturating the ice. The shaky hands of an Artist, stained with many colors, some blended to make other colors. He slowly and carefully scooped up a small dome of Vanilla ice cream and placed it ever so gently on the ice in the perfect spot. He lifted a nondescript bottle of syrup and drizzled it on top. The liquid was gold in color, this was the Midas touch that made the magical concoction so magnificent!

I surely miss those simple days when a raspa con nieve was the ultimate treat, What I received was much more than that, a simple man, and early day Entrepeneur, using his talents and resources not just to line his pockets but to create many memories and ultimately make people smile!

I patiently wait, and then, it’s my turn, I walk up and stare and the man as if he’s going to give me holy communion, I’m in awe.