Ms. Rohr--The Legend and the Ice Cream Syndicate

For those who attended Pleasant Hill Elementary School during a certain and uncertain time, a legend undoubtedly skirts the lunchroom and is ingrained in the memory of many innocent, and not so innocent, grade school children .

That legend is Ms. Rohr who should be considered, if I were judging, as the penultimate lunch lady. 

As a timid but open child, every single lunch of grade school life was met with the fear and reward that Ms. Rohr handed out on a daily basis.

With arms jiggling under worn floral prints and short cropped gray hair fresh out of the curlers, Ms. Rohr made and broke the hearts of children.

As in life, especially with dictators and wives, there was nothing more important to Ms. Rohr than order. And that order revolved around three things:

1) A fast hot lunch line

2) Clean tables

3) An orderly ice cream line

Can you imagine standing in a line of third graders to get your lunch today? I think I would die. Let's give that a pass.

Clean tables? At the end of each table there would be a sponge, a bucket of gray water with cowering soap suds, and a child assigned to making sure each table of 25 grade schoolers had not a spot either under or below the table (this is a public school mind you). A crumb on the floor? Forget about it. NO ICE CREAM FOR YOU!!!

No ice cream? Deadly. Fierce. What was to look forward to? (The Tripping Game? Chasing Girls?)

Your quarter, nickel, and dime (or the common forty pennies) were no good. The store wasn't open if the table wasn't clean. PURE horror!

Bomb-pops, Mickey Mouse ice cream bars (with the delicious and sharable chocolate ears), and ice cream sandwiches were at the mercy of the poor soul who was in charge of the lunch table (I'm sure these people are CEOs, Harvard grads or....divorced by now....)

With the eye of a hawk, Ms. Rohr would patrol the tables looking for discarded bread crust on top of the table or crunched Doritos below.

Locking eyes with children, Ms. Rohr's glare and intention was clear. A clean table meant ice cream or a dirty table meant chiding of the sponge-bearing sap. Nobody wanted to sponge. 

If....if.... the standard of cleanliness was realized, especially at the tables I was sitting at, the ice cream corridor was open. Essentialy a miracle. 

And boy it may as well have been a party with Paris Hilton turned away at the door. If my pals, Erik Milcarek, Charlie Smith or Jim Burrows were working the ice cream stand (a BIG privledge and coniving move in itself), this is how it would go....

1) Walk up to the ice cream cart

2) Pretend to drop .40 in the hand of the vendor

3) Take an ice cream

4) Go back for a second ice cream (.80 saved at this point)

4) Go to J.J. Peppers and buy a pack of gum-stained baseball cards or 10 Bazookas

5) Be happy

The point?

If the lunch lady is the law and the ice cream kid is your friend you gotta a pretty good deal going. There is much to give, much to have, and the ability to duck jiggling arms, curled hair and having friends makes for good times. 

Or...that being a kid was good. Take your pick.