Friday, November 16, 2012

Too much to endure

Boy, it's really an affront to humankind.

As we grow older, we are expected to endure the loss of parents, aunts and uncles, and even friends. We grieve their passing and realize there is nothing we can do to stop these inevitable losses that are as much a part of life as death.

We grieve things and places, too: St. Paul's own Dayton's Department Store, A&W root beer stands, IBM Selectric typewriters, the local paper boy.

We somehow seem to go on. We buck up. Keep a stiff upper lip.

But now we are told we will lose the 80-year old Hostess Bakeries.


No more Twinkies? Ding Dongs? Squiggle-topped chocolate cupcakes?

And what about Wonder bread? With its eight added nutrients, my childhood was made up of Wonder bread sandwiches: P-B-J, bologna-peanut butter-Miracle Whip; crushed potato chips; sliced radishes. You name it, if it fit between two slices, it was a Wonder bread sandwich.

The loss is almost too much to endure.

Have you ever  had the pure joy of shopping in a Hostess thrift shop? Nothing beats the satisfaction of getting your favorite snacks at a bargain price.

I bet there are a million stories of the memories people have of Hostess's assorted products. One of my favorites is from my second-cousin, Barbara. Her husband, Mort, brought dinner guests from work home for dinner; unexpectedly, of course.  A gourmet cook, she kept her cool and quickly put dinner together.

When it came time for dessert, she simply grabbed some Hostess Twinkies, opened a can of cherry pie filling, spooned it over the Twinkies, and topped it off with a squirt of Reddi-Whip. As I recall, she received great praise for her invention.

I unashamedly recall dashing into a gas station with an intense craving for a Hostess cupcake, salivating as I ripped open the cellophane and stuffed one in my mouth.  Then the second one. 

And that was just last year.

Nope, I really don't know how we'll do it. I certainly feel sorry for the generations to come, having to go through life without the simple pleasure of a Ding Dong.  Thank you, Hostess Bakeries.