Lifesavers

Lifesavers

The greatest adventure was at the end of a roll, one that had been transferred from one pair of pants to another—including, if you were alert, the pants you wore to church.  The last circular snack was always a bit of a risk, decorated with lint from your blue jeans that gathered when you got too sweaty running, caught in the rain, or moving too vigorously. 

The other end of the roll always told a story as well, as the inner aluminum foil roll has been ripped enough to release the next cylinder of goodness, but not so much to be separated from the roll itself.  If done well, the resulting tail was a full inch or more long, reminding you of the journey you’d had since it was a fresh pack of goodness.  The one you snuck for inspiration during Monday’s spelling test.  The two you pulled out quickly to share with Sue on the playground, wanting to be her hero, but not wanting others to know.  The one your mother insisted you use in the middle of dinner to mask her garlic-heavy marinara, when Uncle Jim and Aunt Tess came by unexpectedly.  If preserved the right way, youth was an easy journey to track, an aggregation of foil, gently unraveling one lovely, sweet moment after another.

Most Life Saver purchases were done at the local drug store, an add-in to whatever purchase was the real reason to be there.  They stood in the display case like disciplined soldiers, back-to-back, row-by-row, eager to dispense their duty with the refreshing, and unique, flavors like CrystOMint, PepOMint, SpearOMint, and WintOGreen.  Other flavors—like CinOMin, Wild Cherry, and the very adult Butter Rum—were usually gifts from aunts, adults who knew there was more to life than mint variations.  Generous aunts wrapped them in a dollar bill, giving you an opportunity to make your own flavor decision the next time the drug store beckoned.

Then there was Christmas.  For reasons I cannot explain, my wonderful mother somehow thought only one of her children—my oldest brother– deserved the legendary Life Savers Christmas Book, a cardboard box that truly opened like a text, replete with 12 different flavors of Life Savers.  Talk about a gold mine.  It even included rolls of Lemon, Orange, and Butterscotch, flavors not to be seen any other time of year.  It certainly is true I valued the bag of $100,000 bars my stocking regularly held, but I kept hoping to see the Christmas Book, if only as affirmation I had made it to adulthood.

Recent interactions with Life Savers have been less memorable.  My ever-still-a-child heart leapt at the sight of an entire *bag* of WintOGreen Life Savers at the local Staples store.  I dutifully bought one, ate too many the first day, and recall being disappointed with how stale the last few were when I finally ate them.  So much for pacing.

Subsequent visits to drug stores, gas stations, and convenience stores have been fruitless in my quest to simply buy a roll of Life Savers.  It seems the unit of measure is now the bag, and with it, a limit to two mint flavors in terms of variety. The Story Book does reappear each Christmas, but the number of rolls is now down to five, and each one is Five Flavor.  One roll of those is nostalgic; five, alas, is mundane. Humbug.

I lived in a neighborhood in Detroit where everyone’s kids were everyone’s responsibility, and its joy, safety, and comfort is best embodied in memories of Life Savers.  In rolls.

Suffer the Children

The children longed to touch him too
And yet the disciples disdained them.
But Jesus said “Tell me, what is it you do?
To know me, the world must regain them
The childlike wonder
The seeing anew
The things which our younger ones
Naturally do.”
So make sure you know that the suffering ones
Were adults who had learning that must come undone.

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