Taffy Days

When I was young, one of my favorite candies was Bonomo Turkish Taffy, which was about as Turkish as chopped liver. It came in a rectangular foil wrap in vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry flavors. I loved strawberry the most.

As kids, we would run outside the store in search of the nearest cement stoop (a stoop is the mortar stairway leading to a house, for those of you unfamiliar with the term). There, we would hold the taffy flat in the hand, raise our hand high overhead, and with all our might, we would slam the taffy against the stoop, shattering it into bite-size, chewable pieces.

But some of us were far more adventurous. We dared to sit (yes I said sit) on the taffy, incubating it until it was soft and pliable. Then came the magic. We opened the wrapper, and with aplomb, we pinched an end between out fingers and stretched out the taffy into long, drooping strings, and gobbled it down.

Which brings me to my point. I often feel at one with that taffy. There are days when I feel sat upon. Yes, I said sat upon. I feel stretched until I droop, only to be consumed because I lack the strength to resist the pulling. And there are other days when feel that I've been smashed and shattered into a million pieces.

Sometimes I wish I were one with a Hershey bar. I could melt under the heat, and still be sweet. Maybe a piece of bubble gum: Get chewed up, and instead of being spat out, be molded into happy bubbles that appear and re-appear with more chewing. (Then again, I may end up underneath some stinky table top.)

Alas, there are days when I revert to my more primal instincts. You know, survival. I am like a jawbreaker. Go ahead. Bite all you want! Lose a tooth, so I can laugh and say I told you so.

I tell you, there are days when I can relate to the entire candy store. Yes, the ingredients are sweet to the taste, but beware. The after effects of all that sugar may result in your regretting having entered into my realm altogether.

I think if I tap into my original mind, the mind that sees being smashed, chewed, melted, etc., as being something positive, perhaps I should seek to feel more like cotton candy. You remember cotton candy. Wispy and light, delicate, and spun from pure sweetness. One taste on the tongue and you close your eyes, each mouthful is as good as the last. It reminds you of being young, innocent, and full of fun.

Yeah. I need to be more like cotton candy.