Southern Breeze 2007 Summer Issue - (Page 37) “Running a business with my grandparents was challenging at times,” Ashley says. “They were used to doing things themselves—everything from picking up the ice to making the snowballs. It was a long time before I convinced them that we should have the ice delivered, and the syrup recipe was such a closely held secret, and my grandmother was so stubborn, that she wouldn’t even tell me how to make it. Luckily, I had watched my grandmother make the syrups since I was a little girl, and my dad and I experimented until we got it just right.” Despite the hardships, Ashley learned a lot from working with her grandparents. “The most important thing I learned was compassion for others,” she says. “They used the snowball stand as an outreach to others. They always looked at people with an attitude of generosity and service. They inspired me to be a better person and face the world with unconditional love the way that they did.” Generations of New Orleans residents, black and white, rich and poor, political powerhouses, and just plain folk can be found on any summer day, waiting in line, enjoying the many vintage photos that paper the walls and pondering which of Mary’s delectable flavors they will savor. Some say that the line at Hansen’s has a culture all its own; anything can happen. “One day right after we reopened, this woman came in and pushed her way to the front of the long line,” Ashley recollects. “She had just heard about my grandparents’ deaths and went on to tell me how much my grandparents meant to her. “She attended the school across the street and she and the other kids didn’t have anywhere safe to go after school so my grandmother took them in, monitoring their grades and homework, giving them snowballs, and making them homemade Italian doughnuts on her big stove in back. The woman got her chocolate snowball, handed me a twenty-dollar bill, and insisted on paying for the next person’s snowballs. The next person in line paid for the person behind them and on and on. This ‘pay it backward’ went on for nearly an hour, with each person telling how much Hansen’s has meant to them. It was really special.” In a lot of ways, Hansen’s is symbolic of what is going on in the city right now. Most of New Orleans “mom and pop” businesses are struggling to stay afloat and stay unique. To Ashley and the legions of loyal Hansen’s customers, Hansen’s is about more than just snowballs. It is a haven of old New Orleans, especially in the post-Katrina landscape. Its creaky screen door opens to reveal a treasured piece of New Orleans history—one that hasn’t changed when so many other things have. “Hansen’s is a community staple,” Ashley says. “I want to keep Hansen’s just like people remember when they came here as kids. It’s my gift to New Orleans to keep Hansen’s just as good as my grandparents did.” Kim Vanderbrook is a recovering attorney, full-time Southern mama and freelance writer. She and her family live in Covington, Louisiana and are dreaming of their first taste of a Hansen's Sno-Bliz this summer. “My grandmother was so stubborn, that she wouldn’t even tell me how to make it. Luckily, I had watched my grandmother make the syrups since I was a little girl, and my dad and I experimented until we got it just right,” Ashley recalls as she pours syrup over the shaved ice (above). Summer 2007 37
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