Childhood Memories

pink.pngCotton candy. I can remember going to the carnival and waiting in line. The air was always sweet from the sugar of the cotton candy machine and salty from the popcorn machine. My mouth watering, I was gloriously juxtaposed between the two alluring treats. First, it was always the cotton candy. I loved pinching off little sections of the fluffy mounds and letting them dissolve on my tongue. i habitually licked the sweet off my fingers and then wiped my fingers on my shorts before I pinched another sweet cloud. I was mesmerized by the candy floss artist as he flicked his wrist and twisted the paper cone around machine collecting a perfect pink cloud with every try. I recently tried to master this skill. Needless to say, I ended up with more stuck to my lashes and hoodie than I could attach to the cone.

Bedroom. My bedroom was a Better Homes and Garden photo-op staged by my mother. From the pink ruffled canopied bed to the Laura Ashley floral wallpaper, my room oozed “Darling Little Girl.” At night, the bed and the walls glowed pale in the moonlight. It was so pleasant that nightmares sat for a spell and enjoyed a cup of tea. Speaking of tea, my mother collected miniature tea sets and cleverly duct-taped them to the pink shelf above my headboard. In the daylight, my room became a Spring Sunday afternoon, bright and cheery.  I would often fling myself across the bed only to be told to not get the spread dirty. I have so many wonderful memories of that room.

Medicine. Every child of the 80s remembers that bubble gum pink concoction, Amoxicillin. Why make medicine taste so good? I would look forward to that stuff only to be teased by two spoonfuls. I think those were the only times I ever finished the doses of any antibiotic. On the other hand, I ran from Pepto Bismol with the gusto of a life-sentenced fugitive fleeing the law. I would rather suffer through the episodes of vomiting than take one tongue’s lick of that unearthly muck. I can remember thinking that I was going to die from a stomach ache that I achieved from eating too much junk. My mother had to bribe me to take a dose of the Pepto-Dismal (as I called it). Even then, I convinced myself that my death certificate would read “She took Pepto.”

Pink

Posted in Musings

Bitter then Sweet

What happened to the ‘r’? How did pretty become petty? Social media negativity is as bitter as Denatonium, the stuff used to prevent ingesting poisons. But that is just what we do. We ingest the poisonous posts and we like the petty. We sit with our snacks and we phone a friend with the new revelations. This is a petty society enthralled with the joys that bitterness brings.
What happened to the ‘r’?
We lost it; there is no respect. We lost it; there is no responsiblity. We lost it; there is no relevance. We lost it; there is no reasoning.
I could go on forever with the losses, but it would only serve to satiate me. I know how bitter tastes and feels in a moment of pure unadulterated fury. But even more, I know how sweet tastes and feels in all the moments before, during, and after. Instead of joining the madness, I can change me. I don’t have to accept the petty. I can be and see the kind of pretty that makes the bitter sweet. Maybe we can all be more sweet than bitter.

Bitter