Of all the major soda pops in America, Dr. Pepper is the oldest.  It was invented by the pharmacist Charles Alderton in 1885 in Waco, Texas.  Made with 23 flavors, it has been said the owner of the drugstore where it was sold named the drink after his good friend Dr. Charles Pepper.  It gained such a widespread following that other soda fountain operators in Waco began buying the syrup and serving it.  By 1891 the growth of Dr. Pepper became so huge they formed a new firm, the Artesian Mfg. and Bottling Company, which later became the Dr. Pepper company.  In 1904 Dr. Pepper was introduced to almost 20 million people attending The World’s Fair Exposition in St. Louis that year.  From 1910 to 1914, Dr. Pepper was identified with the slogan, “King of Beverages.”  At that time research was discovered that sugar levels providing energy for the average person fell during a typical day at 10:30, 2:30, and 4:30.  A new advertising slogan was formed saying, “Drink a bite to eat at 10, 2 and 4.”  As I began my research for this blog I learned that in 1923 the company moved from Waco to Dallas; my hometown.  The period was dropped from the name in the 1950’s and the slogan became, “Dr Pepper, the friendly Pepper-Upper.”  I can still remember the shock I experienced in the late 1980’s when I went to visit Minnesota.  The people were all very friendly … but they literally had THREE soda dispensers EACH both for Coca-Cola AND Pepsi everywhere from restaurants, to the mall, and even their fantastic zoo.  I just could not believe it!!!  It was like NO ONE knew about Dr. Pepper up there!  It is practically akin to water here.  FINALLY a little gas station was discovered which sold the “exotic” drink in small quantities.  In a previous blog I believe I wrote about tearfully breaking up with a boy over soda preferences.  The famous singer Cher is quoted as once having said, “I can’t do coffee, but can do Dr. Pepper.”  I’d say that summed up my mama’s tastes.  I also believe I have written in a previous blog about not eating turkey since 1976.  That’s because when I was seven (the following year) I recall my mother trying to teach me how to cook a turkey.  Between the yawning, cavernous hole and the mysterious bag of “parts” I was OUT at seven; hence the year 1976.  I was already allergic to seafood so the turkey simply became another critter I couldn’t stomach on my “protected” list.  After that I can recall Mama switching to ham.  What she managed to cook from our tiny galley kitchen in our small apartment humbles me still to this day.  I think I’ve freaked our little one out on turkey (unwittingly) and my poor husband loves meat.  Our little girl does as well, but she has inherited my squeamish/sympathetic tendencies.  So when the hubs suggested a “ham steak” for Thanksgiving I had absolutely NO idea what he was talking about.  Then I recalled watching Mama bake her incredible ham.  So there I was with my precious little family in the grocery store Thanksgiving morning.  I felt inadequate knowing Mama would have already had her ham baking overnight in the oven.  God BLESS my sweet husband, who offered to go over to the butcher’s and inquire.  I know that for him food is very much an extension of love.  So my husband bought the ham and I endeavored to cook it.  I didn’t use a recipe; I just found myself automatically lining a deep baking pan with aluminum foil and scoring the ham just like my mother used to.  I opened a bottle of Cherry Dr Pepper, took a swig straight from its container (it was only for the three of us!) and then I slowly drizzled it over the ham.  After being in the oven for an hour I took it out to pour pineapple juice on it, and then recalled something about mustard.  So I got out my French Dijon (which I am never without) and mixed it together with the pineapple juice.  Dumping some more Cherry Dr Pepper on it, I put pineapple rings with maraschino cherries all over it just like Mama used to.  Offering up a silent prayer, I stuck it back in to bake for another two hours.  We took a walk with our wolf hybrids and then I began preparing the side dishes.  Our little girl decorated the table with the acorns and leaves she’d collected on our walk, while my husband proudly accepted my request to “mash” the potatoes.  I know big families have sometimes looked upon mine (both when I was a child and now that I am a mother) with pity.  Three is a sacred number for many reasons …  It was a picture perfect Thanksgiving and my husband and daughter both raved and raved over the ham.  Turns out I forgot to baste it with brown sugar like Mama did.  Despite my oversight, I believe I have my little family’s happiness to thank, I suspect, to the “Texas Water.”