As a child, I was quite a "fatty." Yup, Grandma Ryks tried to pass it off as "big-boned." Some said I was husky, but the fact was that I was a chubber, largely because I liked my sweets.
Mom and Dad both grew up on farms, so they were well-acquainted with the breakfast-lunch-dinner-lunch-supper-lunch schedule. Most of the time, the "lunch" part consisted of some sort of sweet (aka the "bar" in MN). Likewise, we definitely, always had dessert after the supper meal. Usually, it was cake or pie or ice cream, but those are a sweet of the meal genre. Sweets themselves were the chocolate coating to the nougat of my life. Let me explain. . .
Grandma Nellie lived next door. She was a nice, if austere, lady who liked to have her yard and house in order. Nevertheless, she seemed to like my brother and me, which is indicated by the fact that she would always offer us lemon drops when came to visit her. Still to this day, the sweet and sour mix of a lemon drop reminds of the sweet and sometimes sour nature of Grandma Nellie.
My own Grandma Ryks was an amazing baker. Every Sunday that I can remember visiting her for afternoon "lunch," there was always a cherry pie sitting on the table, baked especially for me simply because she knew it was my favorite. When my husband came into the picture and she learned of his love for Rice Krispie bars, those were awaiting his arrival as well. Peanut butter cookies were a specialty of hers as well. I can see her still, sitting on the stool that I have had the good fortune to inherit, mixing a pinch of this and a handful of that to create whatever was in the bowl. She never had much need for recipe cards.
At Christmas time, Grandma would make a huge canner full of popcorn balls. . .that were as hard as baseballs and as sticky as fly wrap. No one really liked them because you would risk losing a tooth in eating one, but because we loved her so, we would be a good sport and eat one anyway (and probably for the next three weeks after Christmas as well).
Grandpa's contribution to my sweet memories are pink, dime-sized peppermint drops. Grandpa had a candy drawer at his house - second drawer on the left. In it, we would find those drops, of which we would be forced to take one upon leaving the house. If there weren't any in the drawer, there were surely a special cache in his shirt pocket. Pocket lint just sweetened the deal.
When church got a little dull, I could always count on Mom to supply the necessary sweets for entertainment. As a small child, I recall that Smarties were the candy of choice. As I got older and was required to sit "maturely" and pay attention, candy, per se, was no longer allowable, but a Sucrets cherry (which, let's face it, is more candy than medicine) did just fine.
I was fortunate enough to live in a community which still supports a Mom-and-Pops grocery store "downtown." This structure as well as the interior were reminiscent of the buildlings in a Gunsmoke episode. Nevertheless, it was well-stocked with a special aisle of candy and toys. On a hot summer day, my friends and I would bike to the store, a quarter clasped in our sweaty hands, to find just the right candy. For me, that meant a near-paralying decision between FunDip or a Charleston Chew, both of which were purchased due to longevity factors. You'd get more bang for your buck (or quarter) because you could consume either for quite a long time (especially if the Charleston Chew was frozen!)
As I ventured into high school, I could always count on my good friend (with an insane metabolism), Sheila, to keep a well-stocked locker when it came to confections. One special treat that she liked to purchase and I liked to "share" with her was Lemon Heads. During finals week, we girls would convene at my house between finals so that we could "study" for the next one. Usually, that meant we would lip-sync to Huey Lewis and the News while consuming our go-to finals week necessity, a Sugar Daddy.
Once I venture off to college, studying continued far longer than finals week. If my then-best friend, Aimee, and I weren't ordering a midnight pizza from Giovanni's, we were probably wandering down to the vending machine to procure our favorite study treat, a Reece's Peanut Butter Cup. As we considering our futures, gossiped about roommates, and generally behaving as friends do, we would have a contest as to who could eat her Reece's the slowest. I would first peel all, and I mean, all the chocolate off each cup before taking miniscule bites of the remaining peanut butter.
From that point on, my sugar-infused memories begin to fade. As an adult, candy just hasn't maintained its heady influence in my life as it did during my formidable years. Life was a lot sweeter then, and I can't help but wonder how a little sugar could concoct such satisfaction in life and relationships.
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