Calliope sighed. Looking like a muse who’d just taken a bite of dreamy light yellow cake, frosted with buttercream, and rolled in peanuts…
What… wait!
This isn’t a simile or metaphor?
Calliope had peanuts sticking to her lips — evidence the look of rapture she wore was happening in real time.
Thalia reached across the table and dabbed at Cal’s mouth with a Christmas napkin. “I guess it’s a good thing we never got to baking yesterday. We’ve got not just one… not two… not three…”
Urania could take Thalia’s suspense building no longer. “Eight! Our readers can count Tal. There are eight peanut squares in the box — a Christmas gift from Typist’s dad.”
“Errr… seven and a half peanut squares,” Calliope whispered. “And four loaves of Jerry’s dreamy white bread, too.”
Urania sat up straight as a tack. “A ripple. The gift was a ripple of goodness.”
“Because we wrote about Jerry’s bread in Meandering Muses… and Typist’s dad read the story. He had no idea Typist carried the memory so close to her heart and felt inspired to give us a gift he felt would re-create those delicious feelings.” Calliope looked dreamy.
Cake crumbs sprayed from Thalia’s lips when she said, “He was right! Go Dad!”
“Dad said the bakery’s been sold. The name’s no longer Jerry’s, but they are using the same recipes,” said Calliope. “The bread smells the same through its cellophane wrapper. Grilled cheese for lunch?”
Excerpt from Meandering Muses
Book available for purchase here.
“Let’s convince her to get in the car and drive north,” suggested Thalia. “Who else is craving a peanut square from Jerry’s Bakery?”
“I can hear you, Thalia,” Typist said. “We are NOT heading north today. Just because I decided we’d write about Jerry’s doesn’t mean we get to go there. We don’t have time for a road trip.”
“Light, fluffy yellow cake…” Calliope whispered.
“Layered with vanilla buttercream…” Urania tempted.
“Salted peanuts embedded into the icing,” Thalia crooned.
Typist dabbed the corners of her mouth. “Not today. Writing comes first.”
Jerry’s Bakery still fires its ovens in a small cream brick building less than a mile from Lake Michigan’s shore. While I was growing up in Two Rivers, Wisconsin, nearly every sandwich, slice of buttered toast, or pan-fried-bread-and-egg hamburger I ate was made with bread from Jerry’s. On weekends my father would pick up Long Johns with vanilla icing or Danish dripping with maple frosting. The bakery of my childhood left an impression on all five senses — I can almost hear the door’s tinkling bell, smell their freshly baked bread, taste a molasses cookie, hear my father making small talk, and feel my fingers leaving marks on the showcase’s glass.
So is it any wonder that when I moved away from my small town I missed Jerry’s white bread? When I grocery shopped in different cities, I looked for the bread that came closest to what I remembered.
We’ve all got a lot of that stuff buried in our unconscious minds. If you think about how our brains work, you’ll recognize how I came to love Jerry’s white bread. You’ll understand why I longed for that simple comfort food in unfamiliar places. You’ll not be surprised that for years after leaving home, when a bread basket was placed on a restaurant table, I skipped over the whole grain, pumpernickel, and rye.
I’m a comfort seeking being who loves familiarity. Some of us are lucky enough to have events, experiences, or people spark curiosity in us, lighting our way to new choices. How many of our habits stem from the past? What can we try that’s new?
For me, maybe it started with bread — a slice of rustic five grain. Or maybe it was trying Chinese food at Toy’s in the big city. Maybe it was my multi-cultural experiences in Chicago when I started my first job. Perhaps I didn’t get really curious until I became a mother and wanted my child to have a wider range of experiences than I did.
What I’m sure of is that books invite me into scenes and perspectives I’d never experience without them.
If you have three more minutes and some gumption to keep reading, clicking on the word Rudolph will take you to another story.
Born Free Family — Merry Christmas Eve!
If your readers don't read "Rudolph" they will miss a great story!
Giving of ourselves, including owning our past experiences and willingly sharing them, is indeed a gift.
So this reader extends his gratitude for you doing just that today. Teaching old dogs new tricks is how I see the influence you’ve exerted on me with your openness, courage, and of course your writing. You must have known that I delight in hearing/telling tales of our somewhat long ago childhoods.
Thank you and Merry Christmas!