Jac is a man of discerning tastes.

When he finds something he likes, he researches and researches, finding the best quality and buyer.

We have a desk full of moleskin journals (Hemmingway used them . . . ), the finest cheeses in our fridge and too many coats in his closet to count.

He knows what he likes.

Once upon a time, he liked Kool-Aid.  ‘Obsessed’ might be a better word to describe his feelings toward the beverage.  Was this when he was in grade school?  Oh, no, no, no, my friends.  This was as we began to date.  You know, when he was in college.

He had one favored flavor: Kickin’ Kiwi Lime.  He made it with just the right amount of sugar and the neon green drink was nearly constantly in his fridge.


Then, inexplicably, the flavor disappeared from the store shelves.  Jac was distraught at the thought of never  tasting the drink again.  He began to ration and ask everyone we knew if they had ever tasted this wonder elixir.  They had?  Had they bought it themselves?  If so, where?

Really, it was rather embarrassing.

However, during one such questioning, the person let loose that the little mom-and-pop grocery store in Hill City had the mix.  Rejoicing! Elation!  What were we waiting for?

Quickly, a trip was made to this particular store and Jac purchase every single dusty box of the stuff they had.  Then he squirreled the stuff away, breaking out the “good stuff” for important occasions and stressful times.


And Sunday?  Sunday was the  day that he opened the last package and, as only a loving father can do, served it up to the last drop to his children. He had a glass or two himself, but the majority of the ancient stuff wen to his offspring. They evidently are his children because they took to the stuff like mother’s milk.  Max asked to have the last bit left in the pitcher and just as he was about to pour, he stopped.

“Wait.  Since this is your favorite, you should have this.  It’s all there is.”

Jac smiled.

“I’ve had enough, buddy. Go ahead.”

Then we all did.