The Taste of Childhood
What do you think of when you recall your childhood memories? Relatives now passed? Old cars? Favorite songs? Former fashions? Musicians? Bands? Family vacations? A slower pace? All of the above?
One thing I think of is “the tastes of childhood.” I don’t mean, “Did you eat your broccoli?” Or, “I’m not eating my Brussel sprouts.” Or, “I hate beets, lima beans, and liver and onions.”
I’m talking about the good stuff. Candy. Remember the Sugar Daddy Milk Caramel Bar or Black Cow? What about Popsicles? Tootsie Pops? A Smarties Necklace, Lik-M-Aid? And who could forget Good & Plenty? Remember chewing Juicy Fruit or blowing bubbles with Bazooka bubble gum—and collecting baseball cards? Did you love red or black licorice? Do you remember how much fun Pez dispensers were? What about candy bars? Baby Ruth, Butterfinger, Milky Way? And who hasn’t indulged in a Hershey bar, famously known as The Great American Chocolate Bar? (I have a pack of them stashed in my kitchen right now.)
And there’s so many more. Like penny candy. Remember multi-colored “buttons” you peel off of paper? See above. (Talk about a great return on your investment.)
The older we get, the more we get homesick
for a version of life that no longer exists.
But how does candy help us pause more and rush less?
While I chowed down candy as a kid in the 50s and 60s, I still relish it now—but I devour less, eat it slowly—savor it. Why? Because I’m a wee bit older? Partially. But mostly to remember. Remember what? The past. A simpler time. Slower time. Happier time. (Because my relatives were alive and active in my life.) Candy also reminds me of my siblings—but as children. I remember trading with them on road trips to family vacations or at Halloween time. Negotiating a Reese’s peanut butter cup for a Snickers bar.
Candy evokes memories of boasting about my childhood dreams to my friends—of being a radio DJ, photographer, or musician/drummer, on a hot August afternoon while my Popsicle drips down my fingers.
Flavors trigger memories of timeless moments—and the people who shared them with me. For example, every time I drink chocolate milk (like today), I remember my grandfather coming through our front door, his cane in one hand, half-gallon of chocolate milk in the other every Friday night to watch the popular TV show, 77 Sunset Strip with us—or on an occasional Wednesday night he would bring grape juice to watch The Beverly Hillbillies. (Both were delicacies for his six eager grandchildren.)
Even the bright colors of the candy wrappers spark joy in me today. Ever notice the vivid, uplifting candy wrapper colors used to attract our attention—and cut through the clutter on store shelves?
Something as simple as the taste of candy calls into remembrance that our lives were once less complicated, and we didn’t need a reason to be happy—we just were. (And it wasn’t because of the sugar.)
All of our senses help us slow down to maximize life. The sight of a beautiful pond nestled beside a meadow. The sound of ocean waves gently slapping the shore. The scent of lilacs carried on a breeze. The touch of someone we love. And yes, even candy—offers us something we might have forgotten—a taste of our childhood.
Now if you will excuse me, I have a date with a Hershey bar.
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SOMETHING TO CHEW ON: What reminds you of your childhood? What candy did you enjoy as a child? Do you still love it now?
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AUTHOR UPDATE: I just learned this week that my novel, The Desert Between Us, won the 2025 Romance Novel of the Year. This is a “Christian Market Book Award” and is sponsored by the Advanced Writers and Speakers Association (AWSA). The awards banquet took place in Duluth, Georgia.
This is the third national contest award “Desert” has won. May it continue to speak to the hearts of readers and inspire them to experience victory over personal grief.
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