Thanks, and Bye!!

Verona, Wisconsin, October 31, 2012. Happy Halloween, Everybody.

Happy Halloween.

Suburban Chicago, October 31, 1967. I revisit my favorite costume.

My paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, sewed a white, trick-or-treating tote to match the costume. I dragged the tote through the puddles as my Best Friend and I walked around the neighborhood late in the afternoon that Halloween. When I got home, Tatjana and my Mom saw that the bag—and the candy I'd collected—had been soaked. They threw everything away. I only got the remnants of what we'd bought to pass out to trick-or-treaters. The splendid variety of my haul was gone, and I was left with one bag of Life Savers.

Sweets Reunion

 

Brookfield Zoo, 1966. Marshmallows are no treat.

A Treat

Madison, Wisconsin, June 10, 2015. I don't have much of a sweet tooth—I'd much rather eat some cheese instead of dessert—but this is my favorite candy. It's not sold in the United States (yes, the manufacturer did export it for a while, but I never saw it here). My love of "Coffee Crisp" probably is nostalgic. My Mom used to enjoy the chocolates during the summers we vacationed in Canada. Ah! I remember Mom eating a "Coffee Crisp" as we walked back from this shopping trip. Back then, "Coffee Crisp" wrappers were a dense foil, and it was difficult to open the packages.

Some time ago, a student from Calgary occasionally brought me a bag after she returned from a visit. She graduated (and went on to skate with two gold-medal winning Canadian women's hockey teams). Later, my Toronto Cousin started bringing a bag of "Coffee Crisp" when she drove down to see us in the States. It's hard, however, to go a year between tastes of "Coffee Crisp."

Today another friend surprised me with a bag of the treats. So thanks, Toronto Michelle, for brightening our day.

The Life Box (Part 8)

When I lived in Venice, I rarely sent packages to my parents. The cost of mailing a parcel was not prohibitive, but meeting the requirements for overseas shipment was troublesome. The Italian Postal Service required boxes to be wrapped in a particular type of paper. The rules demanded that senders buy an approved brand of twine to secure the paper, and the guidelines specified that the twine must be secured by a peculiar, anachronistic, wax seal. I had to stop at several stores and offices to purchase the items that satisfied the requirements. Finally, packages sent to overseas locations has to be mailed from the central Venetian post office. For me, that meant that I couldn't ship parcels from the post office on the Lido, where I lived. I instead had to visit the big post office near the Rialto Bridge.

Current Italian Postal Service rules still mandate compulsory guidelines, but the present requirements seem less onerous.
 
What did I send when I prepared "care packages" for my Parents? I often packed up some hard candies (usually "Perugina Rossana") for my Dad, and for Mom, I selected knitting yarn. Italian yarn was a real bargain in the 1980s—I usually could buy enough Missoni or Fendi yarn for a sweater for under twenty dollars. (Comparison: In the States, today it costs over $200 to purchase yarn for a "designer" sweater.)

Venice, Italy, May 10, 1984. This package, worth $73.40, contained enough yarn with which to knit three sweaters and less than half a pound of candy. Today's customs form is similar.

"Caramel" Bliss

Suburban Chicago, August 1962. The Slo Poke was a popular candy at our house. There are several photos of me as I enjoy the treat.

Slo Poke

My Mom loved a caramel lollipop that was common in the 1960s, the "Slo Poke." Snacks were rare at our house. But when Mom and my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, shopped for groceries at the Jewel Food Store on Thursdays (Mom's day off), Mom bought a "Slo Poke" for each of us.

Mom often ate only part of hers that Thursday, and she saved the rest for later. Her half eaten "Slo Poke" sometimes sat for days in a coffee cup, covered with waxed paper.

I enjoyed my "Slo Poke" all in one sitting.

Suburban Chicago, November 1964. I am in the Rec Room, again watching television. I sit at the sewing machine.