The Banana Bread, A True Story

Years ago, when Sam was a sophomore at Michigan, I was in my kitchen one day, in the produce department. That’s where we keep the fruits and vegetables that don’t need refrigeration. You know, potatoes, onions, etc., . . . and bananas. And I noticed that the bananas, which just a day earlier had seemed fine, had turned against me overnight. They weren’t so bad that I had to throw them out. They were in that middle zone, where they could still be used to make banana bread. And there were enough of them that I would have to make two banana breads.

Just then, a wave of sorrow ran over me, because Sam, who loves my banana bread, had just been visiting from Michigan. I could have given him one of the breads to take back with him. And then “Boing!,” the light bulb went on over my head — I could mail him one!

So I ran down to the basement where we keep our boxes for recycling to find a good box to send it in. Alas, there was nothing. They were all either way too big or way too small. So I trudged back upstairs, defeated, figuring that God just didn’t want Sam to have a banana bread.

At that point, I heard the crunch of tires on our driveway — it was my lovely bride Linda returning from a shopping trip to Costco. Pretending to be a good husband, I went outside to help her unload. One of the items she purchased was a box of Fiber Bars, 48. They were new to us, so I asked her what the story was. She said they were giving out free samples and they tasted okay so she thought they might be a good healthy snack. I said, fine, and went to put them on a pantry shelf.

And then it hit me. I grabbed the box of fiber bars, tore it open, and dumped all of the bars out onto the table. “What are you doing?,” Linda asked. I told her I had to bake several banana breads and wanted to send one out to Sam and the fiber bar box was the perfect size to send it in.

So God did want Sam to have one after all!

I baked the banana breads. They turned out fine. I let them cool, then wrapped one up and placed it in the fiber bar box. It was a perfect fit. I addressed it to Sam and ran down to the Post Office. “How much would it cost to send this to Michigan?,” I asked the woman. She punched things into her machine and said, “We can get it there by tomorrow afternoon for $32.65.” I looked at her and said, “It’s a banana bread. He could buy five of them out there for that much money. Is there a less expensive option?” She said, “Well, it can go Parcel Post for just $3.85. It will take 2 or 3 days to get there.” Perfect! I paid for the postage and ran back home to send Sam an email. I told him what I had done and to expect the package in 2 to 3 days. Then I sat back and spent the rest of the day enjoying the thought that I was good dad.

Two days later, I called Sam up. He told me it hadn’t come. No problem — the woman said 2 to 3 days, so he should be on the lookout tomorrow. I told him to check where the packages came, not just the smaller mail. He assured me he was on top of it. He had stopped by the mailroom and introduced himself and explained the situation. They were nice guys and they were all on the lookout for the banana bread. Excellent! It would surely come the next day. I wasn’t at all worried.

I called him the next day.

“Dad, it hasn’t come,” he told me.
“But it’s the third day,” I said. “The woman said 2 to 3 days, and this is the third day.”
“I know, but it hasn’t come.”
“But this is the third day.”
“I know but it hasn’t come.”
“Okay, well, it will definitely come tomorrow.”
“Yes, definitely.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Of course not. Neither am I.”

I was expecting him to call me the next day when it came. He didn’t call, but I figured he probably had classes, maybe even a test, and other college stuff to do. I was sure it came, and he was planning to call me later. But he didn’t call me later, so I called him.

He didn’t even say hello. He just picked up the phone and said “It still hasn’t come, Dad.”

I said, “Damn that woman at the Post Office!! I’ll strangle her!! She said 2 to 3 days!! 2 to 3 days, and this is the 4th day!! No wonder the country is going to shit — they can’t even deliver a goddamn banana bread!! It may not be fresh when it gets there.”

“I guess it’ll come tomorrow,” Sam said.
“Yes,” I said, “Let’s hope it’s still fresh enough to enjoy.”

I couldn’t sleep that night worried about the banana bread. Big bags formed under my eyes which were glazed from lack of sleep. I started chain smoking. I cancelled my classes the next day, and just sat at home waiting to hear from Sam. I decided not to call him that day, no matter what. If it came, he’ll call me. I’ll just tough it out. But the call never came and I faced another sleepless night. It would be Day 6 when the sun rose, and still no banana bread.

I stared blankly into space for hours. Finally, I picked up the phone and called Sam again. “Has it come yet?” I could barely talk at this point, from the stress and the cigarettes, and the lack of sleep. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dad — it still hasn’t come.” I was beside myself with grief and rage.

“Really? Are you absolutely sure?,” I asked him.

And then he said. “Yes, I’m sure. The only thing I’ve gotten all week was this box of fiber bars Mom must have sent me. They look so awful I didn’t even open them.”

I slumped down to the floor, tears streaming down my face. “That’s the banana bread, Sam!! Open the damn thing!”

Well, the good news is it was still fresh enough to enjoy. He shared it with his buddies — They all said it was delicious!

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Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees

Combine:

3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup corn meal
1/2 tsp salt
2 and 1/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 to 2/3 cup sugar

Combine separately:

2 eggs
2 large (or 3 small) mashed bananas
1/3 cup oil or butter
1/4 cup milk

Shmush it all together

Optional:

Stir in 1 cup blueberries (frozen or fresh) — strongly recommended
Or raisins, chopped walnuts, mini chocolate chips

(Add more milk if the batter is too thick.)

Pour it all into an oiled loaf pan.

Bake for 52 or 53 minutes.
Test with an official Dusty Baker toothpick.

Let cool.
Mail to Sam.