Ritz Soda

Some of my friends already know I'm on a quest to find Ritz Soda in the Coastal Georgia area. My sons think this quest is just more evidence that their mom is a flake. But Ritz is more than carbonated, flavored sugar water. It's a significant, though small, part of my childhood.

My parents separated when I was ten, and by the time I was eleven, my mom had moved, me and my siblings to Dublin, Georgia, where she took the position of bureau chief for the Macon Telegraph & News (now the Macon Telegraph). My dad, meanwhile, married my step-mother, who had three kids of her own. Every other weekend, Dad would drive to Dublin to take us back to Hawkinsville for a visit. Before leaving Laurens County, Dad would stop by a cinder-block country convenience store on Highway 257, and he'd buy each of us a Ritz Soda.

My favorite was orange-pineapple, but sometimes I got tropical punch. Occasionally I'd opt for the pina colada flavor because I liked the additional flakes of faux-conut floating in the drink. So exotic! I felt like I was having a cocktail.

Those one-hour drives to and from Hawkinsville were the only times Sabra, Harley and I got to be with Dad by ourselves, so Ritz Soda represents some rare quality Dad time.

But that's not to say my step-siblings didn't get in on the Ritz Soda fun. Oh, no. By the time I turned twelve, Dad had decided to build a log cabin out at the farm. It took him about ten years. After building the foundation, he had to collect the logs, and that's where the six kids came in. On the weekends, Dad would pile us in the tan and white Dodge van and drive us out to the farm. He would disappear into the woods on his John Deere tractor, cut down a pine tree, chain it to the tractor and drag it back to the clearing just up the hill from the building site. Then he'd give us these tools that looked like hoes with the blades straightened out, and we'd spend a sweaty afternoon stripping the bark off those pine trees.

Good times.

Sometimes (not every time, just on special days), while we were busy stripping those logs with smiles on our faces, Dad would take off while we weren't looking and show back up with a cooler of Ritz Sodas.

Back then, Ritz Soda came in a conical shaped glass bottle with a Styrofoam-like label, which we all stripped from the glass after finishing the drink. Then we'd shove the foam strips inside the bottles and throw them in the woods. Back then, we didn't care about litter or recycling.

About a year ago, my brother, who travels South Georgia for his job, texted me and reported that he had found an orange-pineapple Ritz Soda in Albany. I hadn't thought about Ritz in decades, but that one text message sent me on a mission to find a Ritz Soda in my area. In the past several months, Facebook friends have reported Ritz sightings in Dodge County. And then last weekend, Harley found a stash of them in a convenience store in Tifton. He bought me three of them. One of them was orange-pineapple! What a treat. Last night he found more in Valdosta. On the drink's website, I notice a flavor I've never heard of before: Champagne cola. Now, I've got to get me some of that.

Still, it would be fun to find a Ritz Soda on my own. Now it's kind of like finding the prize egg at an Easter egg hunt. I might just have to take a road trip through rural Georgia.