Pandemic-weary Americans want to know: Is there a Dr in the house? WACO - Long, long ago, Papa would climb into his faded blue ’52 pickup and putter down the Dallas Highway to stay with us for a few days before heading back to the Hill County farm where he lived all alone. Occasionally during his visits, he seemed to develop a rasping, little cough that kept him - and us - awake at night. Despite being a lifelong teetotaler - because, according to family lore, his father had not been - the only cure for the cough was a “medication” he called a hot toddy. Hot water, sugar, a squeeze of lemon and Jack Daniels, it smelled really good when Mom heated it up on the stove. So, my grandfather wasn’t a drinker - of alcohol, that is - but he did have a liquid addiction: Dr Pepper. And he’s not the only one I’ve met over the years who can’t get along without their daily DP pick-me-up (maybe even at 10, 2 and 4, as the old ad slogan encouraged). I think of Joe Graham, the late Texas A&M-Kingsville anthropologist I got to know on field trips to a Mexican village 50 miles south of Presidio/Ojinaga. Joe was a Mormon who abstained from alcohol and tobacco, but every one of his trips along rutted gravel roads deep into rugged, rural Chihuahua was fueled by Dr Pepper. I’m not saying Dr Pepper’s secret ingredients include an addictive substance; I am saying that Waco’s most prominent export, the oldest major soft drink in America, has long enjoyed a loyal following. (Big Red is another Waco product that inspires loyalty, but nothing like Dr Pepper). Imagine the consternation of hardcore Pepper Uppers around the country when their drink suddenly became hard to get recently. From what I’ve read, an aluminum-can shortage, not an actual soft-drink shortage, was at the core of the problem. Preparing for the pandemic in the spring,...
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