I missed the heyday of an ice-cream
chain that became famous for having twenty-eight flavors. By the time I
came to the US, it had only a few years to exist before yielding to ice-cream
parlors that offered fewer flavors, and frankly were wise to do so.
The experience of marching into a Howard
Johnson’s was exhilarating. Twenty-eight flavors! Even if you would dismiss
ten of the flavors as less appealing, you still had eighteen to choose from.
There was Banana, Black Raspberry, Burgundy Cherry, Butter
Pecan, Buttercrunch, Butterscotch, Caramel Fudge, Chocolate, Chocolate Chip,
Coconut, Coffee, Frozen Pudding, Fruit Salad, Fudge Ripple, Lemon Stick,
Macaroon, Maple Walnut, Mocha Chip, Orange-Pineapple, Peach, Peanut Brittle,
Pecan Brittle, Peppermint Stick, Pineapple, Pistachio, Strawberry, Strawberry
Ripple and Vanilla. Which would you order?
For one who came from then-modest Israel, this was like going
to an amusement park with so many rides that you would be paralyzed not knowing
which way to turn.
The thing is, invariably after making the choice and sitting
down, one fills with regrets about the flavors not chosen. Especially for a kid
who doesn’t get to decide when a re-do (that would be another trip to the
ice-cream parlor) will be, if it ever will be.
Don’t laugh, but this is a real thing.
Here’s what is empowering about storytelling: you can always
revise, re-tell, change the trajectory, and (at least until the final version
is fixed in print) feel the power of never having to worry about the road not
taken.
But once published, you must let go. FOMO is not good for
writing or life.
Good ice-cream is even better than it was in the Howard
Johnson days. Premium parlors have switched to offering fewer flavors (some rotating,
some fixed) and better quality.
Life isn’t as good as it used to be, and never was.
