Maybe I will go a little ape with this post. But I’d like to start it out with a punny story and picture, before relating it back to the fruit.

Bandana Square

Noah eating a banana at Bandana Square on July 25, 2015.

When we were all younger, my Papa did magic shows and clowning. I have many non-specific memories of magic shows in his basement in Lincoln which were popular for birthday parties and family get-togethers.

One of the tricks was played to a tape, and called “The Disappearing Bandana” (or something along those lines). So, on the stage, he followed the instructions for it, but using a banana rather than a bandana (which included directions of folding, opening, etc.). It wasn’t until I was older that I understood that the funniest part wasn’t the mess, but the intentional punniness and using the tape to prove a point.

Therefore, last summer when I was spending the night in St. Paul, I had to take a picture of eating a banana at Bandana Square.

In fact, an interesting fact about me is that I didn’t really like bananas, other than possibly mashed into smoothies, before I moved to Menomonie. When I was at Bandana Square, I had gotten a banana to eat mostly for the purpose of getting the selfie, and it worked.

Fast forward to once I started at Stout, and often stayed over at the pad of my friend Sarah’s parents. Bananas were commonly a fruit available in their kitchen for the mornings (along with my customary Cheerios), and I found that I started to like the taste of bananas.

This was particularly true when I spent Passover with them. Strangely enough, I haven’t bought my own bananas even after taking a liking to them on vacation (or weekend getaways). Maybe that is about to change too!

And then, last weekend, I had flourless banana pancakes for dinner (not just for breakfast anymore) at my friend Elisheva’s place, and they turned out pretty well (other than being a little misshapen, but I’m not a food critic!).

Maybe cheese is the next foodstuff that I can try to redevelop a taste for…

Oh, and one more thing…

“Oh loke to oat, oat, oat, ohplles and bohnonos…” is my favorite line of that childhood song.


Columbus: 16 days.

Twenty-Nine: 19 days.

Kenosha: 46- days.

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