Variety is the Spice of Life!

I always have a steady supply of jelly belly’s in my purse and some type of chocolate nearby, but every now and then I’ll mix things up, like today, I am enjoying a nice big box of Mike and Ikes. But these aren’t just any Mike and Ikes, these are called “Red Rageous!” Imagine a box full of chewy fruit flavored candies in several different shades of red: Raspberry, Cherry, Fruit Punch, Strawberry and Watermelon! Totally delicious and hitting all the major red fruit categories!  The Mike and Ike brand does a good job by offering many different varieties of their chewy candies, which made me think of that old saying “Variety is the Spice of Life!”

I believe variety is not only the spice of life but is also essential to a happy one. I’m not talking about changing partners or anything like that I am referring to trying new things, changing careers, not always wearing the same color clothes or the same shade of eye shadow.  I grew up studying dance which some how morphed into becoming a paralegal which later led me to law school to a career I never dreamed of having, but one that I loved. I look forward to the future and wonder what career is next? Similarly with hobbies – I used to play the piano, but dream of playing the harp. I know that at some point in the future I will play the harp, in fact I dreamed about it last night. I love studying languages and while I am not fluent in any of them I have studied Russian, French, Japanese and Hawaiian. I don’t care if I am fluent or not, I simply enjoy stretching my brain.

 

I guess what I am saying is that while there are always constants in your life, like your spouse, your children, your family, don’t settle and do the same thing your whole life long. Try new things, experiment, reinvent yourself often, do things you have always dreamed of doing, but never thought possible.  And of course, try new flavors of candies, I promise you won’t be disappointed!

Summer and Salt Water Taffy

Salt water taffy forever reminds me of that passage from being a kid to crossing the divide to becoming a full-blown teenager! The summer between 8^th and 9^th grade my aunt and uncle invited me to Cape Cod for the month of August to help take care of their two daughters. First, the simple fact I was asked to accompany them over my older, and much more sophisticated sister sent shivers of delight up my spine. Then in anticipation of spending the month on the beach my mom bought me a two-piece bathing suit – yes, a bikini!!  I’ll never forget it, it was a lovely shade of pale yellow with little flowers. The double bonus, it made my sister incredibly jealous – as being the oldest she was the one who was supposed to experience everything first, including wearing a two-piece! 

Cape Cod was simply beyond words – the house was just a few yards from the beach. We would spend hours on the beach swimming out to the sand bar, body surfing, just hanging out. It was fabulous!  I’ll never forget walking down the beach in my cute two-piece bathing suit and being whistled by two boys who even ran up to talk to me. I was confused – why were these boys (clearly older than me) talking to me? This was my first foray into dealing with the opposite sex, which I failed miserably at then, and admittedly throughout high school and beyond! (I was always thick-headed when it came to flirting). Still it felt strangely exciting and forbidden at the same time.

But what I remember most from this vacation was my first taste of salt water taffy!  I’ll never will forget it, we were walking in town and stopped into a country store. My uncle bought me a bag of salt water taffy. Here were these bit-sized pieces of multi-color chewy taffy wrapped in pieces of white paper. Each piece was better than the next – banana, strawberry, vanilla, licorice, every imaginable flavor. I was totally hooked, in love and craved more. From then on, every opportunity I would stop back at that quaint little store and buy another bag of salt water taffy. Funny, thinking back the excitement of traveling first class on an airplane, wearing a two-piece bathing suit, being chatted up by boys are all diminished by the memory of tearing into a piece of chewy taffy!

To this day, each summer I look forward with great anticipation to the arrival of those bit-sized, brightly colored tasty pieces of salt water taffy!  And with each bit I am taken back to that summer after 8^th grade feeling ever so grown up in my sweet yellow two-piece bathing suit (like any good Catholic girl, I still have a hard time calling it a bikini – good girls simply didn’t wear bikinis!).

Summer!!!!

I come from a family of 7 kids – 4 boys and 3 girls. Growing up my brothers were very rambunctious, you know the type – the smelly, noisy messy, teasing kind. It is no wonder I ended up an introvert. Summer would come and the gaggle of us Kennedy kids would be home together with nothing but time to get in each other’s way.  I loved finding a place to hide out, somewhere to escape to, just to have time to myself. One of my favorite escapes was riding my bike to the little grocery store not far from our house. Back in the 60’s when I was growing up there were still family run grocery stores – the kind where the store was downstairs and the family lived upstairs. There was one such grocery store near us on Williston Road – one that was easy to get to without having to ride on busy streets, which was strictly forbidden. I don’t remember its name, to me it was always simply the candy store. Right next to the counter were rows and rows of candy, with the lowest row chock full of every imaginable penny candy!

I would save my pennies or even snitch one or two from my mom’s purse when she wasn’t looking (sorry Mom!) Once I had a few pennies I would jump on my bike (the kind that was one speed with foot brakes) and head out full of anticipation of the adventure and the treats waiting for me. My route never varied, I would head up Tonkawood Road to Robinwood Drive, hang a left and cruise through the back streets until I hit Williston Road. I swear 40 years later I could easily take that same route without hesitation, I knew it so well.  Off I would ride through the intertwining streets to arrive at the grocery store. They had this fantastic selection of penny candy. I would dream about what I wanted to choose – of all the choices, tootsie rolls, taffy, waxed lips, pixie sticks – I would invariably choose candy lipstick. For those of you who don’t know, candy lipstick was shaped just like a tube of lipstick, surrounded in gold foil. Naturally, it was bright red and had this fabulous cherry taste.  I would lick the “tube” and put on lipstick before biting into the soft, creaming deliciousness.  Oh, how I wished they still made that penny candy today, there are imitations of course, but nothing matches that red, sweet cherry lipstick in its gold wrapper!

As I grew older I was allowed to ride my bike on busier streets, so instead of going to the little candy store I would ride my bike up Minnetonka Blvd. through the back roads to the Rexall Drug store. Here you could buy nickel Hersey bars, or a 5 cent box of red hots (yes, I do love my red hots!). But best of all Rexall Drug had a fountain counter in their store where for a dime you could sit on the stools and drink strawberry or vanilla phosphates – total heaven!  These were also solo bike rides, just me and my bike. To this day I still seek out time to spend alone. Of course today, my bike has been replaced with my sweet ride, but undoubtedly it involves making a special trip to find something sweet!

Ballet, Tap and Red Hots!!

I started taking tap and ballet in 3^rd grade. I remember seeing a poster at Groveland Elementary school announcing an after school dance program. I knew then and there I had to do it. Little did I know then that dancing would become a major focus of my life for 20 years.  Every Friday afternoon we would file into the gym. Black leotards, black tights and black ballet shoes (pink wouldn’t come into vogue for several years, apparently!).  We didn't have ballet bars to hold on to, instead they would line up folding chairs and that is what we use to hold on to. From the beginning I loved ballet, the music, the steps and patterns, the outfits, everything!  I was free, I was beautiful, I was me.  Tap was just pure fun, but ballet is what made my heart sing.  I truly loved it…. Anyway, this is really about red hots!

Fast forward a few years. I am still taking tap and ballet at Groveland, but as I got older I was able to leave the school grounds between school and ballet class.  Talk about dangerous! There was a Tom Thumb store about a half a block from school. Every Friday I would skip lunch and save the quarter it cost for lunch (yes, my children, 25 cents for lunch) and before ballet class I would walk to Tom Thumb and buy a bag of red hots for 19 cents. We’re talking about a big bag of red hots, not the nickel kind (yes, candy was a nickel back then). I loved the cinnamon flavoring, how it would burn slightly on my tongue. Red hots are best when slightly soft and chewy. For some reason buying them in a bag would guarantee that perfect mix of hot, spicy, soft and chewy.  I am positive I would come to class with a red tongue and what likely looked like red lipstick on my lips from eating so many red hots!

The best part was that walking to Tom Thumb to buy candy without my parent’s knowledge felt surprisingly good, a little dangerous, but also slightly wrong. My first taste at independence at such a young age proved to be precipitous. What followed through the rest of middle school and into high school was an incredibly determined, fiercely independent person. I’ve always followed my own path and didn’t let others overly influence me. I went to an open school throughout high school so I could dance every day and I continued dancing through college, even majoring in dance. Today, dancing is still an important part of who I am. When no one is looking I will do pirouettes in the kitchen, I shake my booty at a latin hip hop class twice a week, and when I close my eyes, I am young again and dancing up a storm!

And of course, I still love cinnamon candy!  My repertoire has broaden a bit to  cinnamon sticks, cinnamon Mentos, and Brach’s cinnamon hard candies, but every now and then I will seek out that perfect cinnamon imperial slightly soft, extra spicy red hot! 

Licorice!!

I know this is a written piece, but I want you to imagine Oprah saying “Licorice!!!!” In that voice of hers (you know, that loud high pitched voice that starts out lows and ends up high, right?) If you can imagine that voice that is the feeling I am trying to portray in the heading:  Licorice!!!! That’s right, whether it is Good n’ Plenty, Licorice Mix, Twizzlers, Red Vines, String Licorice, Anise hard candies, or even Luden’s Honey-Licorice Cough Drops there is nothing quite as good. The rich, almost heavy tasting candy has been around for centuries. It is even used for medicinal purposes. But none of that has to do with me, my friend Goldie Reinhardt, and string licorice!

It was fall and I was entering 3^rd grade at Groveland elementary school in Minnetonka. As with each new school year I was nervous and shy, wondering if would I find a new friend, would I fit in? I was placed next to a new girl in the school – Goldie Reinhardt. Oh, what an exotic name. Goldie, like her name had a round chubby face, and curly golden hair. I liked her immediately and we became fast friends. I was so happy!  Shortly after school started I was invited to play at Goldie’s house after school.

At Goldie’s house her mom gave us a bag of strawberry string licorice. Wow, this was a new experience for me. We took the string licorice and made necklaces and bracelets comprised of multiple knots. We would proudly wear the “jewelry” as we danced around the house (yes, my dancing career had started by then!). After displaying our fine wares we would eat our jewelry. If you have done this before you know that “knotted” licorice tastes better and different than the stringy part. I swear it does! Try it if you don't believe me. The bag of licorice would quickly disappear as we continued to eat what we made and soon it was time to go home.

But when my mom came to pick me up and saw where Goldie lived she immediately drew conclusions on not only Goldie, but her family as well. Goldie’s family lived in the basement apartment of a pink house in the “older” part of Minnetonka. I wasn’t sure why my mom didn’t like Goldie and her family – I thought the pink house was awesome, and her mom gave us licorice to play with.  I guess that was my first experience with discrimination. I’m not totally blaming my mom, I know she is a product of her generation, but my heart broke a little bit that day. I just didn’t get it. While Goldie and I continued to be friends, over time the friendship faded, more than likely because I wasn’t always allowed to play with her. Then Goldie’s family moved outside the school district and that was that.  To this day, it still makes me sad that I lost a friend.

That experience intuitively made me sensitive to any form of discrimination. You may not know this, but we raised our three kids while living in an apartment. We didn’t have much money, but we raised three beautiful, smart wonderful daughters. When I would see the parents of my daughter’s friends treat us “differently” I thought back to how Goldie and her mom must have felt. It simply isn’t right, people shouldn’t be judged based on the balance of their checkbook or their address. I am so incredibly proud of my daughters and how they didn’t let the fact that we didn’t have a lot of money affect them, actually, they wore that like a proud badge.

So forever, string licorice reminds me of my friend Goldie Reinhardt. It is a sweet memory for me.

My love affair with jelly beans begins!

I have loved-loved jelly beans my whole life. Anyone who knows me knows I look forward to “jelly bean season” like a runner prepares for a marathon! Plus, my closest friends know I always have a bag of Jellys Bellys with me at all times (my love affair with Jelly Bellys is more recent, more about that in a later post). But how and why I started really loving jelly beans wasn’t because of Easter, it began when I started getting allergy shots. How is that for an unlikely beginning!! 

When I was in elementary school I had allergies, and after having an allergy test it was determined that I needed weekly allergy shots. Like any kid, getting shots were not fun, let alone once week!  My mother would drive me to Wayzata every Saturday morning for my shot. I’ll never forget that first time when the nurse pulled up my sleeve and administered the shot. I was nervous and apprehensive, which I swear made the shot hurt that much more. Ouch!  Not fun. But to my surprise after the shot she pushed forward a candy jar full of jelly beans! These were the big, Brach jelly beans: red, purple, pink, orange, green, white, yellow and black! Oh heaven. As she pushed the jar toward me so I could take one (yes, only one – c’est impossible!) I reached in and pulled out the one on top – a big purple jelly bean. It was love at first bite.

Suddenly the torture of having a weekly shot along with the added mandatory misery of sitting around for 20 minutes to make sure there wasn't a reaction to the shot wasn’t so bad, because I was guaranteed my one rationed jelly bean! Each week I silently prayed a purple one would be on top and was invariably disappointed if I ended up with a green or yellow one.  Red was my second favorite color, with the white one a distant third (for some reason the white ones always seem strangely exotic to me – maybe because for being such a plain color they taste so good?).  To this day, 40+ years later, those are still my favorite three colors!  Hmm, why do I associate the Brach jelly beans with a color and not a flavor? Don’t know, don’t care, just give me my purple jelly bean!

My Early Years

When you are young you don’t always recognize that grandparents are special, that they can shape your lives in ways your parents can’t. Little things even after all these years will come rushing back to me – whether it is hearing my grandfather’s voice in my head when I am walking “pick up your feet when you walk” or my sweet nanny’s loving nature, always happy to see you and when it is time to leave she would stand in the driveway waving goodbye with a handkerchief with tears in her eyes as we drove away. I love those memories.

But when I think about my earliest memory of sweets it is with my Grandfather Curry or “Papa” as we called him. I was probably 8 or 9 at the time. On holidays we would pile into the car and drive to St. Louis Park, up the scary steep driveway and pull into my grandparent’s house. The Curry’s always had “pop” for us kids – I remember drinking ice cold Bubble Up and relishing each sip. The kids would all go downstairs to the basement and play pool and drink our pop. Oh, how I loved the sweet bubbles tickling my throat with each swallow. I always wished I could have more than one bottle. I suspect I snuck an extra one now and again too! But it was Papa’s crystal candy jar that I remember the most. It was always filled with spiced gumdrops. I love gumdrops – especially the white peppermint ones or the red cinnamon ones, or the green spearmint ones…. Okay I love them all, I admit it.

While my siblings played pool downstairs I would sneak up and stand around the candy jar until my grandfather spotted me. Papa would lift the latch of the candy jar for me and there would be the luscious gumdrops, recently replenished just for me. One, two, three, I would take, he wouldn’t care, because of course that meant he could take one as well – always the orange clove one (my least favorite). I think he did it so I could enjoy my favorites! Here is a picture of that candy jar. It was truly the one item I wanted from their estate after they were gone. It is fragile and I am often afraid to use it. But some day when I have my grandkids of my own I will take it out and fill it with gumdrops just like Papa used to do!