astute peer refutes root beer repute

Long intro short, my French friend and I are hanging out for the first time on American soil 7 months after we last saw each other, this time speaking in English instead of German.

There is a minimal language barrier, more in the subtleties than anything else.  During her stay in San Francisco, she improved her knowledge and daily use of English.  More importantly, she was allowed to experience a new way of life and has expanded her breadth of the world merely by being, seeing, and allowing the newness in.

Of course, I think this is great.

She reminds me of how hard it is to find people with an open mind.  People who are empowered by knowing that they don't know much.

So we finish our meal, our conversation, walk down the block and move onto dessert because I can't wait for her to try her first root beer, let alone her first root beer float!  With her blessed open mind, Anaïs takes a few spoonfuls of this newness and says it tastes familiar, pulls out a pack of gum from her purse and tells me that she's not sure, but it reminds her of chewing gum.  She shrugs and the gum is put away.  "Hmm maybe," I wonder, "but I believe it's flavored with sassafras or some other... well... roots."

Later at home, my nightly routine brings me to Google where I find:

In 1960 the FDA outlawed sassafras because it contains safrole, which was proven to cause cancer in lab rats. The primary element in the root beer flavor we know today is wintergreen.

And sure enough, the next time I share this information over brunch, one of the newly-enlightened conjures up a box of wintergreen mints, as if by magic.  We three shut our eyes, so as not to be disturbed by the color stigma that so rudely kept us from the truth and... voilà!

Brown meets green, particles dissolve on our tongues, and the power of an open mind brings forth an unmistakable sensory connection.