Tuesday 11 September 2012

On ice cream



My intense pleasure in the eating of ice cream, and my recent arrival in the US, got me to thinking.  It occurred that the American ice cream parlour is something of a microcosm of this great nation.  The glittering array of colours, flavours, and choices; the intense rush and delight of consumption; and the exit, significantly more encumbered than the arrival and tinged with a delicious guilt.

British journalists seconded to the Washington bureau of one international news organisation used to refer to the posting as "the ten pound attachment".  And little wonder... with so many culinary treats on tap, laden with copious quantities of those taste bud temptresses: salt, sugar and fat.  The problem is magnified when you send those intrepid journalists out on the American road.  Options such as grilled tuna nicoise, low-fat fro-yo, and sashimi specials give way to fried chicken, and biscuits and gravy.  

Now these are fine foods, designed to stick to your ribs and just about everywhere else.  They'll see you through an icy Northern winter and no mistake.  The pleasure of gnawing your way through a gelatinous rack of baby back ribs is one of the marvels of the Midwest.  I will ever have fond memories of Piggy Blue's Bar-B-Que in Austin, Minnesota (http://www.piggybluesbbq.com/after recording a radio package at the Spam Museum (I'm not making this up - http://www.spam.com/spam-101/the-spam-museum).  But chew the fat too often and do so at your peril.  You can have too much of a good thing.  

These conundrums may also serve to illuminate the no less weighty subject of the US relationship with debt.  With national indebtedness currently running at over $16 trillion, it is fertile territory as the nation considers its next leader in a tight election race.  Check out the US National Debt Clock in an idle moment (http://www.usdebtclock.org/); its relentlessly rising total is both mesmerising and rather frightening.  And the degree to which it should be stemmed is a key schism between the Romney and Obama camps in an increasingly partisan battle.

Boil this down to the individual's relationship with debt and another hot electoral topic crops up.  President Obama's promise to cap student loan repayments is intended to ease the financial burden of education and galvanise the youth vote.  A recent conversation with a former law student revealed that she had racked up an eye-watering $150,000 of debt in college, and was still struggling to pay it off years later.   Unable to find the kind of meaningful work that had inspired her to become a lawyer, she had been forced to take a job in college admissions to service her loans. 

The choice of the over-privileged, you might say?  After all, kids who go to law school have options that most ordinary Americans can only dream of.  This individual was not forced on pain of death to take out the extra loans we might imagine she spent on Abercrombie sweaters, Starbucks caramel lattes and spring breaks in Cancun.  But far from being spoilt and entitled, this woman was the first in her family to go to college.  An idealist, she'd assumed that she would be able to use her legal education for the aid of others.  And when the opportunity of going to law school presented itself, nobody stopped to point out that it might not be a good choice.  

I'm not suggesting we should feel sorry for students suffering from a lack of fiscal discipline.  Nor am I complaining about the wonderful dilemmas presented by the American ice cream parlour, or indeed by an education system that offers some of the world finest universities.  But underpinning American ideals of prosperity is a default position that in abundance of choice automatically lies the road to success and happiness.  Banks and credit card companies have been ever eager to trade off the American dream, assuring us that we can have it all if we want it.  They just conveniently fail to mention that you'll pay for it later.

Choice encapsulates the most American of contradictions.  It's the reason I have the pleasure of eating a maple walnut sundae one night and a mint choc chip cone the next, of choosing between Pho or Burmese takeout.  It also sheds light on the US's complex relationships with guns, with God and even freedom.  Free choice is what sets us apart from other creatures and ultimately makes us human, an ideal that was not lost on the Founding Fathers.  Through the "unalienable Rights" they gifted to US citizens, they sought to create a nation defined by liberty.

There's a sense of risk and reward that lies in choice, and it's hard to imagine a nation better equipped to gamble with Lady Luck.  Americans are instilled with unfailing energy and optimism, even when faced with terrible trials and unimaginable tragedy.  On no day does that resonate more than today - the 11th anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks on the World Trade Center.  These qualities make Americans among the most resilient people anywhere, and that's definitely something worth aspiring to.

Amid the perils of navigating the path of free choice lies another glimmer of optimism.  My favourite Philadelphian ice cream vendor offers a sundae called "The Stock Market Crunch" (http://www.franklinfountain.com/menu/sundaes/).  A delight of Rocky Road doused in peanut butter sauce, it was invented in the wake of the 1929 crash to give customers something to smile about.  You might have blown your brains out on your shares, but there's still ice cream to cheer you up.  This might sound a rather flippant way in which to fight an economic depression.  But dig deep into your Rocky Road and you'll find a serious point about courage and tenacity at the bottom of your waffle cone.

As I grapple with my new-found freedoms, I'll be taking on board one piece of advice.  It's particularly pertinent when selecting a sundae.  Be sure that you've mastered the art of saying "No more, thank you", "That's plenty for me", or "I'm full, thank you very much".  

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