It's been a pretty mundane afternoon-- very windy, a few snowflakes floating around. I'm just finishing munching on some popcorn that Michael made. (Yes, Caprice and Canon had a few kernels, too.) I guess you could say that's his signature dish. He makes it often, sometimes almost daily. If I've been out of the house, I can always tell that Michael's had his popcorn. The warm smell lingers in the house for hours.
Popcorn was my father's favorite snack, too. He put it in athe big, yellow glass bowl. I remember him lieing on the couch in the family room, munching, and later leaving it on the bar for later, or the next day. This is, perhaps, a bittersweet memory, as I think my father was putting the popcorn popper away in a lower cabinet when he had the stroke that eventually ended his life.
Movie popcorn and an orange drink. I don't do that in the movies anymore, partly because I only drink diet sodas now, partly because it just doesn't appeal to me, although the smell certainly does, and partly because we rarely go to movies.
Popcorn disasters: Learning to use the stir-pop with the well for melting butter--I didn't know the popcorn needed the air vent, and covering with the plastic lid would make it soggy. An uncovered popper when the corn was hot enough to pop. Burnt popcorn- popper, microwave (especially) and Jiffy Pop on the stove.
Popcorn balls- my favorite trick-or-treat or Christmas booty, especially when wrapped in colorful Saran wrap.
School projects- counting, predicting, making and selling flavored popcorn for a project early in my teaching career. That, in turn, reminds me of the push for career education 30-plus years ago. That, in turn, reminds me of the beginning of my teaching career, my first job, my first principal.
From hunger to sad memories to ones that bring a smile. A kernel is worth a few hundred words.
