What Ails America?

Sweets for the Sweet

When I met Peter in 1965, it didn’t take me long to figure out that he liked sweets.  We were working at the same place and although I didn’t want to pursue him too aggressively, I spent a fair amount of time walking by the candy bar machine.  I know that if I got the timing right, he would be there buying an after-lunch Snickers bar.

Fifty-four years later, he still can’t pass by a bowl of candy without grabbing some.  And now, because we know it’s so good for us, we always eat a square of dark Belgian chocolate after dinner.

The other night I offered to hang up Peter’s jacket when we got home from an errand.  It felt extra heavy.  Sure enough, a bulging pocket contained a large bag of licorice sticks.

The sheepish look on his face as I pulled out the bag was priceless.  My eighty-nine-year-old husband looked like the little kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.


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I have a hard , hard two days . Sitting here in the foothills of the Appalachian mountains in NE TN, you have brought a smile to my heart . Thank you !

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