‘Dark. Dark is all I find for metaphor’

You’ve all been aware now for several days.  Weeks perhaps.  But little ole’ me over here in Scotland, well… I’m just hearing the news now.  And I’m absolutely devastated.   Devastated, I tell you.

*It is similar to when I learned about the earthquake in Haiti… some 4 days after it happened… when asking for prayer requests in church one Sunday morning.  Someone suggested that we pray for Haiti, and I, ridiculously, said, “Oh, what’s wrong with Haiti?’  I know, right?   (Hey, don’t judge me – I had neither TV nor radio and the internet had been out that week… and no one in town mentioned it!)

Okay… the news isn’t quite as devastating as the earthquake in Haiti, but eet steel breaks me wee heart. 

Hostess is No More.

Going out of business.

Never to be seen again.

The symbol of my childhood.

And teenage years.

And adulthood.

Well, the first ten years of my adulthood.

My life may as well end here; for what is life without a HoHo or a Fruit Pie on the convenience store shelf greeting you upon your entrance, silently screaming to go home with you, or into you?

I’m not sure how they’ve gone bankrupt, given how much I’ve contributed to their sales over the years! 

Oh, the Twinkie and the CupCake and the HoHo and the Ding Dong, the delectable Fruit Pie, the Snow Ball, and who can forget the Mini Muffin?  What a sad, sad day it is, this 19th of November on which I’ve heard the news. 

‘Dark. Dark is all I find for metaphor’. (Name that poem, Kristi, Kim or Naomi? Think Owatonna Public Library!)

I’m pretty sure Hostess was my first word, and the Wonder Bread/Hostess Outlet Store is definitely one of my earliest shopping memories.  Along with the weekly trip to the grocery store would be the weekly stop at the Hostess Outlet Store.  Mom would buy dad’s White Wonder Bread for the week and would restock the freezer with everything else Hostess that was good for the soul, and the stomach.  You see, as children we didn’t drink Kool-Aid or Pop.  We didn’t have fresh baked brownies and cookies or other desserts at night… or ever.  Ok, rarely.  (Thanks mom.)   We had Hostess Snack Cakes with a red marker slash over the packaging, indicating that they were next-t0-expiry and needed to be purchased at a lovely discounted price.  They were only going in our freezer, and in our family, when it comes to chocolate, expiration dates mean nothing.  Especially if they’ve been in the freezer. 

There were three staples in our deep freezer while growing up:  venison, Wonder Bread, and Hostess Snack Cakes.  After school Brandon and I would grab out a package of CupCakes or Ding Dongs, or sometimes, if we were feeling particularly ‘healthy’, we’d go for the Blueberry or Apple Cinnamon Mini Muffins.  Though the 4 or 5 Mini Muffins were never enough.  The CupCakes were usually my first choice.  Then a HoHo.  Then a Ding Dong.

My Great Grandma and I shared a birthday, and one year we had a Ding Dong pyramid birthday cake with candles coming out of each DingDong.  (Mom’s type of baking back then.)  I remember no other birthday cake I’ve ever had. 

But I do remember eating loads of Fruit Pies—biting into their oily crust that would fall everywhere, with their cherry or apple or blueberry filling.  The corners were always the best—biting into it and realizing it wasn’t as full of filling as you expected, but loving the pastry nonetheless.

And the CupCake—gently peeling the chocolate frosting off the cake and holding it in one hand while shoving the cake into my mouth with the other, just to top it off with a slow nibbling around the white swirls, finally eating them at last.  These were my scientific method projects of the day.

And let us not forget the HoHo!  Like every person who thoroughly enjoyed the HoHo experience, I would eat all the chocolate off the top and sides (it always stuck to the cake more on the bottom) and then slowly unroll it and eat it nibble by nibble until the very center where it would no longer unroll and was filled with creamy goodness. 

Oh help!  What ever will I do? 

I am in Scotland and will potentially never taste these iconic forms of sheer goodness that characterized my childhood. 

Perhaps someone will send me a CupCake for Christmas.  Or a HoHo.  Or a Twinkie.  Or a Fruit Pie.  Or a Ding Dong.  Or a Mini Muffin. 

Oh to taste them just once more in my lifetime…

Perhaps. 

Just perhaps.