My son, Steve just sent me a bulletin. “Scotch, scotchy scotch. I love scotch.” I never knew. (There are things a mother shouldn’t know…ya know?). But it reminded me of the forced whiskey and honey cold cure.
My mom (somewhat …dependent…as 60’s frustrated wives occasionally were..) was a firm believer in the whiskey/honey/lemon cure.
If my brother or I were to demonstrate even the slightest indication of a cold, flu or stomach upset, her immediate reaction was to “cure” us with the whiskey. We were made to lie down on the couch (I always remember it as being in Grandma’s basement….) near the fireplace, and drink a WHOLE glass of warm whiskey mixed with honey and lemon.
I remember gagging. I remember complaining. I remember suddenly becoming very…..sleepy…..
And I remember WHY to this day I can’t stand the smell of whiskey, scotch or bourbon. Happy birthday, Steve. Have a scotch on me.
But not with me…..
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