How sweet it is…

My dad was as vice-free as anyone I’ve ever known. But he did have a little bit of a sweet tooth. And when I say “a little bit,” I mean it; the kind of sweets he enjoyed were not typical of what tempts most of us.
His unusual taste in candy went back to his childhood when he would spend Saturday afternoon at the “picture show.” He would buy a nickel’s worth of candy corn at a store next to the theater and make it last through the afternoon as he watched a double feature, newsreel, cartoon and previews. He described to me how to do this: First, put one piece of candy corn in your mouth. Bite off the little white tip and stow the rest in your cheek. Slowly shave down the white piece with your teeth, savoring each tiny shred. Then bite off the yellow top of the corn and proceed in the same fashion. By the time you finish the orange middle piece, 20 or 30 minutes could have elapsed.
As an adult, he liked one candy that hardly anyone admits to eating. They’re called Circus Peanuts, but they’re really spongey, orange marshmallowy lumps shaped like large peanuts in shells. He could stick one of these between his cheek and gum and sit happily in a hunting blind for hours as the rubbery abomination slowly dissolved.
During the last years of his life, he kept a large jar of jawbreakers on his desk. Once a day he would pop one in his mouth and let the thing melt.
I’ve got his jawbreaker jar on my desk now, but I find it hard to follow my dad’s example. I get impatient and chew up the candy corn or bite down on the jawbreaker as soon as it’s small enough or spit out the circus peanut because…because…well, it’s because I’m not as wise as my dad. He knew that the sweet part of life was to be savored, not gobbled. He knew there was enough goodness to last a lifetime if he paced himself. He took his time and enjoyed every second. Sweet!