Cherry Punch — Something Sweet for a Seventieth

The Damiano Center crowd has shifted. Gerald is still there, the soup steady. New faces too — younger, more women, more children. The need does not decrease. The need shape-shifts. The soup does not stop. The soup is the only constant the people who come into that basement get to count on, and we keep it constant. Astrid had a fall. She is fine. The Twin Cities sister-call club is now its own small intervention. Karin and I take turns calling Astrid. Astrid resents the calls. We make them anyway. The resentment is the love filtered through Astrid's particular Scandinavian self-sufficiency. We do not mind being resented. We mind, far more, the alternative. Erik turned seventy. We had a small party at his house. He grilled. He drank one beer (his quota, a quota set by his doctor, observed religiously). He was quiet and happy. He looked like Pappa around the eyes. I had not noticed before. I notice now. The resemblance has deepened with age. Erik is becoming Pappa in the slow gentle way that men become their fathers if they live long enough. I cooked Vegetable beef stew this week. Beef chuck browned hard, then carrots, parsnips, turnips, onion, garlic, beef stock, tomato paste for body, bay and thyme. Two hours low. The root vegetables sweeten as they cook. Served with crusty bread for dipping. I made the soup. Fifty gallons. I served the soup. A hundred and twelve plates. I came home tired. I came home good-tired. The Thursday tired. The right tired. I sat on the couch with Sven and a glass of wine and I did not move for two hours. The body wants this kind of tired. The body has wanted this kind of tired for thirty years. I thought about Lars this week. He has been gone since 1979. The grief is old, but it is not gone. The dead do not leave. They just become quieter. Lars at twenty was funny in a particular sideways way that nobody else in the family was funny. He could make Pappa laugh, which nobody could make Pappa do. He has been gone forty-five years. I still hear his laugh sometimes, when Erik is laughing in a particular way, or when Peter accidentally tilts his head the way Lars used to. It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. Mamma used to say: "En människa är vad hon ger." A person is what she gives. She said this in Swedish so often that the phrase still sounds in my head in her voice. I think about it daily. I think about what I have given, and what I have not given, and what is still to give. The accounting is mostly favorable. The accounting is, in some ways, the only accounting that matters. The Kenwood neighborhood has aged with me. The Bergmans next door (who were a young couple with three kids when Paul and I moved in) are now grandparents themselves; the Larsons across the street have moved to a smaller place; the Andersons three doors down passed away in 2017 and 2019 respectively. The block has filled in with younger families that I am too tired to fully meet. I wave from the porch. They wave back. The wave is the relationship. It is enough.

Erik’s seventieth called for something a little celebratory — nothing fussy, nothing that would compete with his grilling or make a fuss he’d have to acknowledge. A cold, sweet Cherry Punch felt exactly right: easy to set out, easy to pour, bright enough to mark the occasion without turning it into a production. He had his one beer. Everyone else had this, and it was enough, which is the best thing a drink at a quiet birthday party can be.

Cherry Punch

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min | Servings: 16

Ingredients

• 2 cans (12 oz each) frozen cherry limeade concentrate, thawed
• 1 can (46 oz) pineapple juice, chilled
• 2 liters ginger ale, chilled
• 1 liter lemon-lime soda, chilled
• 1 jar (10 oz) maraschino cherries, with juice
• 1 orange, thinly sliced (for garnish)
• Ice ring or ice cubes

Instructions

1. Mix the base. In a large punch bowl, combine the thawed cherry limeade concentrate and pineapple juice. Stir well until fully blended.
2. Add the cherries. Pour in the maraschino cherries along with their juice and stir to distribute evenly through the base.
3. Add the fizz. Just before serving, slowly pour in the ginger ale and lemon-lime soda. Stir gently once or twice — you want to preserve the carbonation.
4. Add ice and garnish. Place an ice ring or a generous amount of ice cubes into the bowl. Float the orange slices on top for color.
5. Serve immediately. Ladle into cups and serve while cold and fizzy. Refill with additional soda as needed to maintain the fizz throughout the gathering.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 115 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 29g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 18mg