A Box of Nothing

As I went past the kitchenette area where I work, I noticed a box on one of the tables, the kind of box that looks like it holds some kind of treat. It could be cookies, or cake, it doesn’t really matter at 2:00 in the afternoon when something sweet would hit the spot. I put on the brakes and made a quick left into the kitchenette to get something before it was all gone. Yes, it was a bakery box!

I took one last look around to make sure no one was watching, like I was doing something wrong (it must be some kind of learned response from my younger years), opened the box, and…it was empty. Empty! Unless you count a few measly crumbs in the corners of the box, it was empty. What a letdown. I thought I was going to get at least a little sugar energy to help me through the afternoon, even if it was just half a cookie or pastry, or even a sliver of a cake or a pie. I felt like the box was taunting me, laughing at me as I walked away.

Why do people leave an empty treat box sitting on the kitchenette table like that? It’s such a tease and such a disappointment. One minute your imagining yourself eating a piece of chocolate cake, or munching a chocolate chip cookie, or being lucky enough to find even a quarter of a cinnamon bun, and the next you get air. A handful of nothing is what you end up with. I guess if you’re desperate, you eat the crumbs, but I wasn’t. Truth be told, I have too much pride to do that anyway.

I had lots of experience with finding something empty growing up in a big family. I cannot even tell you how many times I came into the house to get a cold drink of water, opened the freezer, and found one ice cube in the multiple trays. I’d take the one ice cube left in the top tray, and go to get another out of the next tray, only to find it empty. Someone actually left an empty ice cube tray in the freezer! If I complained to Mom or Dad about it, they told me it was wrong for someone to do that, but could I fill up both trays so the next guy didn’t get the same problem.

For some reason, my parents insisted on buying the ice cream that has vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry in the same package. None of us really liked strawberry, so when you went to get some cold, refreshing goodness in the summer, the vanilla and chocolate were totally gone, like they were never even there. I know, you’re thinking that the container wasn’t empty, that there was still some ice cream left, however, as far as we were concerned it was empty. None of us kids were going to eat the strawberry ice cream.

Mom also liked to get us the variety pack of cereal with the small boxes, which was great for the first week and maybe the second week. After that the only cereal left was Raisin Bran. I don’t know any kid that would take Raisin Bran over Frosted Flakes, or Sugar Pops, or any other sugar-laden cereal. The Raisin Bran would sit in the cabinet getting stale, unless one of us was desperate enough to take it and pick out all the raisins, throw a couple of spoonsful of sugar on it, maybe some sliced banana, pour in some milk, and only then eat it. That’s how you start your day with a good breakfast!

I could go on. There were 99.99% empty potato chip bags; containers of milk, Zarex, or soda with, at most, a mouthful of liquid left; toilet paper rolls with one square left on them and paper towel rolls with no sheets left on them; boxes of holiday chocolates with the only leftovers the kind that old ladies like (my apologies to all the Grandmothers out there). Letdowns one and all.

Over time, though, these letdowns have faded into the background because over time I’ve learned what is more important, that being family. Tasty treats, ice cream, ice cubes, even toilet paper, won’t always be there, but I know my family will.

Year of the Dandelion

As I’ve been driving around the last few weeks I couldn’t help but notice that there are a lot of dandelions this year. It seems that everywhere I went I saw lots of the bright yellow weeds. They sure do look nice, adding a nice touch of color to the greenness that is finally here. The last week or so, I’ve seen quite a few of the little white puffballs that hope to some day be full-fledged dandelions. Some of my neighbors’ yards have been inundated with them this year, whereas in past years they had very few. I have them coming up in places that never had them before. The Chinese have designated 2011 as the year of the Rabbit, but I have dubbed this year the year of the Dandelion.

I’m pretty sure that as kids, all of us picked up the white puffballs, blew as hard as we could and then watched all the little individual pieces go flying every which way. It was always fun to do it on a bit of a breezy day and watch them go up, up and away to who-knows-where. Now that I own a house and have a decent lawn, I understand why some of my neighbors got angry at us as kids for spreading the dandelions. Of course, we didn’t know that was what we were doing, we were just having fun. I’m also pretty sure that as kids, we all picked some “pretty yellow flowers” for Mom. When I was growing up, we always had dandelions in my yard and we didn’t care.

We actually played in our yard. We played football in the back yard until we got an above ground pool, which pretty much messed up our field. The pool also messed up softball. We had a pretty good size field for a bunch of young ball players and we even ran the bases. I’m not sure how many windows we broke, but I do remember a few getting hit by a foul back or an errant throw. We had this wooden bat, Old Betsy I think we called it, that was too big and heavy for most of us, although we all tried to use it. After swinging and missing and practically being dragged down by Old Betsy’s weight, we’d get a regular bat and take our cuts with that one. Funny, I don’t think we had a name for the other bats, just Old Betsy. We had two big Weeping Willow trees in the back yard that were in fair ground in the “outfield” and the rule was that you could catch the ball out of the trees and the batter would be out. I don’t think I ever caught one out of the trees (and probably never hit a ball into the trees), but I do remember my older brothers and some of their friends doing it. They’d get under the tree, go this way and that, and then lunge for the ball as it came through the lower branches, occasionally snagging it before it hit the ground.

Our front yard was where we spent a lot of our summer days, playing wiffle ball for hours. We played with as many people as were available, even if it was just a game of one-on-one. For the most part, the rules were simple: we hit from the opposite side of the street, while the pitcher was on the same side as our yard; you got one swing, if it was a foul or a miss, you were out; if the ball hit the street or sidewalk before reaching the grass in our yard, you were out; a ball that reached the grass in the air was a single; a ball the reached the bushes up near the house in the air was a double; a ball off the trim of the roof was a triple; a ball between our house and the neighbor’s house, or in the gap as we called it, was also a triple; a ball on the roof was a home run; a ball that went over the fence in the gap was also a home run. We had a few different rules for larger games, but those were basically it.

We played for a while, occasionally running around the back of the house for a quick drink from the hose, which sometimes elicited a “Turn the hose off!” shout from Mom. She knew the quick drink could turn into an hour long cool off shower, or worse, a fight for the hose. Sometimes we took a break from the action, got a pitcher of water and some cups, and sat in the shade for a bit as we drank our water. If we were really lucky, we got a pitcher of Kool-Aid or Zarex to share. After a short break, we were back to the games for a while longer until someone had to leave or we just got sick of playing wiffle ball, whichever came first. With all those wiffle ball games going on in our yard, we didn’t have a Show Place yard. Yes, we had grass, but our yard looked like a yard where kids played. We had no “Keep off the Grass” signs, real or imagined, and there were a few bare spots due to the games.

I loved my yard as a kid because it wasn’t something that was off limits to me and my friends. It was a football field, a softball field and a wiffle ball park. We played tag and catch and ran around the yard. Sometimes we just sat under the tree in the front yard, talked and looked ahead to the future when we’d be old enough to…fill in the blank. I miss those days, when even just one friend meant a wiffle ball game and when a lush green lawn with no dandelions meant nothing to us unless we were playing on it. The grass may have been greener on the other side, but in color only. As far as I’m concerned, we had the nicest yard in the neighborhood.

Of Pixy Stix and Pop Rocks

People bring a lot of leftover food into work and put it in the kitchen for anyone to eat. It usually doesn’t take too long for something to go – to the swift go the spoils! Once in a while, someone brings in something that sits…and sits…and sits. I often wonder about items like that. Did someone try it and then tell everyone else it tastes terrible? Did somebody see somebody else take a bite and retch? If so, how come no one warned me?

This week I went into the kitchen on Tuesday and there was a pile of Pixy Stix on the table. Pixy Stix? That’s exactly what I thought when I saw them. It looked like Pixy Stix, but I wasn’t quite sure. I picked one up and, even without my now-required reading glasses, I saw that it was indeed Pixy Stix. My first thought was, “They still make these things?” I really didn’t know they still made them after all these years. After all, they were a big thing when I was a kid. There wasn’t much better than pouring some flavored powdered sugar into your mouth, so dry that you almost couldn’t swallow. It was awesome! At least it was when I was a kid.

I didn’t eat any of the Pixy Stix last week. As an adult, the thought of pouring powdered sugar into my mouth really didn’t interest me whatsoever. However, it did get me thinking of some other so-called food items that were great as a kid. I don’t know why, but one item that always comes back to my mind is Zarex. Thick syrup that you mixed with water, Zarex was a staple at my house, especially in the summer. You could make a pitcher full or just a glass full, mix it with some ice and drink it down. And sometimes when no one else was around we’d just take a swig of the Zarex syrup – talk about a sugar rush! The funny thing about that is that just thinking about drinking Zarex straight up makes me kind of shiver. Oh, and if Mom found out we did that, we weren’t allowed to make any ourselves, which meant that we got her version that was more like water with a little flavor instead of sweet, thick syrup with a little water. Kool Aid was no match for Zarex. It also appears that Zarex is being manufactured again.

How about Pop Rocks? When those first came out, every kid wanted them and every parent wanted to ban them. One of us would put half the bag in our mouth, close our mouth and everyone else would stand around that person listening to them pop, trying not to laugh too loud so we could hear them. Then came the Urban Legend that if you ate Pop Rocks with soda, your stomach would explode. Or maybe it was a marketing ploy. It either shows how stupid we were to go ahead and try eating Pop Rocks with soda or how smart we were to not believe it, but me and my friends are all alive today after doing it. Now that I think of it, maybe that’s why some of us have larger stomachs than we’d like.

Another item that comes to mind is Marathon Bars, which were chocolate covered caramel that was kind of twisted. Supposedly they took a long time to eat. I just remember the funny ads on TV – “I’m Quick Carl and I do everything fast”, except eat a Marathon bar. I probably ate one at some time, but it didn’t leave much of a memory.  Would I eat any of these now? Absolutely not. And now that I’m reading this over, it brings something else to mind. How the heck do we have any teeth left?