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 |   Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland |
| 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 12th What is one thing (sight, smell, sound, object, etc) that, when you encounter it, instantly brings you back to your childhood? Maybe it's because I am a bit hungry this morning, but when I read the prompt both things that came to mind were food-related. They are both connected to my great grandmother Claudette. My father's grandparents were first generations French Canadians who immigrated here from Quebec when they were newly married. My great grandmother Claudette was a northern beauty who's heavily accented French became beloved part of the soundtrack of my youth. She had perfect alabaster skin and delicate, perfect teeth and delicate features well into her nineties. She had this gorgeous, thick white hair that she kept tucked up under these fabric caps with a lacy ruffle around the edge. When I was a child my father bought her little house on the hill and she moved just down meadow to us in a pristine little trailer with a red wood porch out front. We would visit her once or twice a day, bringing her sprigs of golden rod or whatever else we would manage to find growing around our property. She would throw open the door with a bright and cheery, "Ahh-lloooo, my prince and princesses!" and beckon our broad inside, delighted by whatever meager thing we'd brought her that day. She would settle into her floral rocker for a few moments, reaching a hand down to pet Peso, the ancient French toy poodle who was a constant presence at her feet. She would politely listen to our chatter for a few moments before suddenly clasping her hands together in mock surprise and and asking, "But who wants a wish?" My great grandmother's "wishes" were chocolates, Whitman's chocolates to be exact. She loved all sweets and but chocolates were her absolute favorite. She always had one of the big yellow Whitman's boxes on hand and she would jump up and fetch it. She would pass it around, just as eager to watch her guest chose as she was to sample her own once everyone had had their turn. You only got one shot and you had to eat what you chose, so you did it carefully. We grew adept at avoiding the orange cremes and coconut ones over the years. Those icon Whitman's boxes always remind me of these visits with my great grandmother Claudette, and the warm and welcoming presence she was in my life.  Ironically, the other sweet I associate with Gramma Claudette does not evoke those same sentiments. In fact, the mere memory of them brings me to the brink of nausea. My great grandmother had a bowl of pink and red carnival glass she kept on her dining room table. It was filled with a old fashioned confection called circus peanuts. These were pastel colored treats shaped to look more or less like their namesake. On one particular visit with the family, I sat absently working on one of the massive puzzles she had spread out across the table. These puzzles had thousands of tiny pieces and you could work for an hour and not get one to fit. My parents were involved in a lengthy discussion about something that failed to hold my interest. I sat, halfheartedly trying pieces with one hand, and stuffing circus peanuts into my maw with the other. At first, I remember they tasted like marshmallows, nutty and a bit chalky but still marshmallows. After the fifth one, I began to notice an unfortunate aftertaste that soon blossomed into a full, all up in my mouth sickeningly sweet tang that made my mouth water and my eyes burn. The skin of my face was suddenly slick with sweat and I was overcome with the powerful need to vomit. I rushed past my startled family and threw-up in a bush of my grandmother's deep purple dahlias. I remember that I felt like I was going to die, but also that I was oddly impressed to find that the circus peanut vomit looked just like rainbow sherbet against the dark foliage. I was sick for hours after, plagued by a queasy stomach and bitter taste in the back of my throat I could not get past. So powerful is that memory, even seeing a bag of circus peanuts can provoke an almost visceral reaction from me today.  My great grandmother was a remarkable women who has inspired me very often through the years. If you are interested, several years ago I had a piece published in the 2013 Summer Edition of the River Poet's Journal about her called, "Claudette's Lovely Dementia" An earlier version of that piece resides in my port:
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