Sassafras Tea

He stepped off the patio of the vacation home where he was staying with his family.  His wife and children had gone shopping.  He had begged off, desiring an hour of solitude before their next activity, whatever that might be. 

He could feel the heat starting to build as the bright, July sun climbed high into the cloudless blue sky.  The cool shade of the adjacent woods beckoned.  He decided to enter by the well-worn path that presented itself at the edge of the manicured lawn.  He breathed in the earthy aroma as he followed the path beneath the canopy of trees.  It stirred youthful memories of days spent exploring the woods near his boyhood home. 

“There’s a path we’ve never taken.  Let’s see where it leads.” 

It might dead-end at a cliff or a wall of undergrowth too thick and thorny to push through.  But it might also lead to treasure – at least in the minds of young boys. 

“Wow, I can’t believe someone threw this stuff away.”

“There’s a radio.  I’m going to take it home and see if it still works.”

A fork in the pathway interrupted his reflection.  A cluster of trees caught his eye and drew him down the trail to the left. 

Is that a sassafras tree? he wondered.  He examined its leaves and decided it might be a tulip tree.  His thoughts once again raced back to his boyhood rambles in the woods.  No, I’ll bet it is a sassafras tree, he thought as he looked more closely at the leaves.  There were three different types – a single lobe, another shaped like a mitten and the third looked like a trident with thick, shapely tines.  Only one way to tell for sure.  He plucked one of the leaves from a branch, stuck the stem in his mouth and bit down.  There it is – that root beer-like taste.

“Mom, how do you make sassafras tea?” he asked, looking up from his homework spread across the kitchen table.

“I’m not sure,” she answered as she continued ironing one of her husband’s shirts.  “Why don’t you try calling Ed and Wendy King on Party Line?”

Party Line was a show on KDKA radio.  People called in with all sorts of trivia questions or tried to guess the answer to puzzles that the hosts posed to their audience.  You never heard the voice of the caller.  Party Line was broadcast in the days before radio had figured out how to use a 5-second delay to censor rude or profane callers.  Instead, you just heard Ed or Wendy’s side of the conversation, which always began with one of them saying, “Hello, Party Line.”

His mother listened to Party Line most every night after his younger brothers were tucked into bed.  He was older and got to stay up till 10:30 or so, especially when Dad was working the 4 to 12 shift.  He had homework to finish and guessed that Mom appreciated the company while Dad was at work.

“I suppose it’s worth a try.  What’s their number?”

“Just listen to the radio.  They say the number every few minutes.”

He picked up a pencil and wrote down the call-in number the next time Wendy announced it.  He slid out of his chair and walked over to the black wall phone near the cellar door.  He lifted the receiver and dialed the number. 

“It’s busy.”

“Hang up and try again.”

He tried again.  Still busy.  And again and again.  Still busy.

After about 15 tries, his mother suggested, “Try dialing all but the last number.  When it sounds like they’ve hung up on a caller, dial the last number.  Maybe that will work.”

He tried his mother’s suggestion, but got the same result.  Twice, three and four times and still the annoying busy signal tone came out of the receiver.  Then, on the fifth try, the phone started to ring. 

“Mom, it’s ringing!”

“Please hold for Mr. King,” a voice said.  He listened intently for maybe thirty seconds.

“Hello, Party Line.”  It was Ed King.

“Hi.  I was wondering if you could tell me how to make sassafras tea,” he heard himself speak into the receiver. 

“I have a caller that would like to know how to make sassafras tea,” he heard Ed’s voice coming out of the radio.

“That’s a good question,” Wendy chimed in.  

He hung up the phone and sat back down at the kitchen table to listen for the answer.  Mom continued with her ironing, and Ed and Wendy took a station break.  When they returned, they were on to another caller’s question.

“They’re probably having someone research sassafras tea,” his mother said.  They listened for the next half hour, but neither Ed nor Wendy said another word about sassafras tea.

“It’s getting to be your bedtime,” his mother said as she gathered up the ironed shirts to carry to the bedroom closet.

“That was completely worthless,” he moaned.

“Maybe you should just dig up some roots and boil them,” his mother suggested.

He smiled as he pulled another leaf from the tree, stuck the stem between his teeth and started walking back toward the house.