Upon reflection, it may be that this essay should be properly entitled “Molasses Immobility.” But we will get to that question a bit later.
It may well be that readers of Ezra’s Essays are unfamiliar with the term molasses. I always try to be helpful in these circumstances and here is what a reference source has to say about molasses.
Sweet and thick, molasses is what is left when sugar cane or sugar beets are processed to make refined sugar. It has a full flavor, dark roasted and tangy. There are three types of molasses. The first is light molasses, second dark molasses, and finally black strap. Light molasses comes from the first boiling, while dark molasses comes from the second boiling and the third is black strap which comes from the third boiling and is thick, dark, and bitter.
I became aware of molasses as soon as I could walk or toddle. My recollection is that my father kept a jar of molasses on our kitchen table. It was a useful jar in that during the Depression it was sometimes the only dessert that we had. The dessert consisted of a piece of white bread, I believe sometimes called Wonder Bread, which in good times was covered with some margarine. My recollection also is that margarine came as a colorless substance. There was a yellow dye which came with the margarine that could be used to make it appear as though the bread was buttered. But in fact it was only colored margarine. It is also my recollection that flies had a considerable attraction to molasses. If the jar was left open an instant too long, a fly would get his legs caught in the sweet syrupy concoction which was fatal to the fly. In spite of the warnings about eating black strap molasses, it is my impression that my father greatly favored black strap, which he said contributed to muscularity and long life. I had my doubts about the latter.
I have told you about the various kinds of molasses in order to illustrate a point. It turns out that as one increases in the age department and is also afflicted by a case of peripheral neuropathy, walking becomes a bit difficult. Whereas I used to think that walking several miles was unremarkable, now I find that getting from my chair or bed to the bathroom is regarded as a great feat. It finally struck me recently that walking under these circumstances is like trudging through molasses. It is not enough to stop you completely but it is an impediment. Perhaps the easiest way to explain this is to say that a person walking through sludge would be similar to one marching through molasses. Basically speaking, this is a matter of the aging process and is no cause for great alarm. It is simply like dying in installments.
My father would be happy to know that molasses has brought back memories of him. He was a proud man who labored every day of his life with his hands. I have no great attraction for molasses. I thought it was a useful metaphor for describing what it is like when a youngster of my age attempts to get from one place to another.
We ordinarily shop at a place called Whole Foods, which features organically grown produce. They have all kinds of highly-sophisticated syrups for pancakes but none that are really designed for Wonder Bread. As a matter of fact, they don’t carry molasses at all.
So as you can see, this is another chapter in the aging process of Ezra. But I remind you that six years ago I wrote an essay distributed to all of you entitled “Sing No Sad Songs for This Old Geezer.” Now I am trudging through the sludge of molasses as I attempt to go from one place to another, but I treat it more as a matter of amusement than of tragedy. So if any of you are inclined to buy some molasses of the various boilings, I will help you eat it. I think that is a pretty safe bet because in this part of the country when molasses is mentioned, the response is, “You said what?” For old times’ sake, I might like to have a taste of molasses on Wonder Bread covered with margarine with the yellow pill to make it appear like butter. But I am willing to subdue my craving for molasses and merely use it as an excuse to write this essay about walking as though feet were encumbered by trudging through the hazards of molasses.
I leave it to my readers whether this essay should be called “Molasses Mobility” or “Molasses Immobility.” It is a question that we should refer to the Congress of the United States. Perhaps they could settle this question, despite the fact that they seem to be unable to settle anything else.
E. E. CARR
November 20, 2011
Essay 594
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Kevin’s commentary: I actually just learned about the process of dying margarine yellow within the past week. I went twenty-two years without knowing that that was a thing that happened, and now here I am learning about it twice in a week. I think there’s a name for that type of phenomenon, and it has to do something with probabilities and the brain’s propensity to seek patterns but hell, I’m happy to just call it ‘odd.’
In other news, the phrase “[Aging] is simply like dying in installments” belongs on a motivational poster somewhere.