Saturday, September 7, 2019

Off came the sidewalk

It was at the house on Whitford Ave. We all sat on benches at dinner time. After a pot roast or spaghetti, or whatever might have been on the menu, the summertime, with its bright after-dinner sunshine, seemed to be the season for indulgent desserts.

For a time, we had orange Hostess cupcakes. I think it was only for a short time.


Whether we froze them first to be had after dinner, I'm not sure. But one evening, with the bright sunshine streaming through the large kitchen window on Whitford Ave., Dad was feeling playful and he did one of the things that you don't expect, but wind up remembering.

I think he wanted to save the delicious frosting on top to have at the end of the rest of his cupcake. He peeled it off, and said, "Oh look, the sidewalk's come off!"

So naturally all us wee bairns took the sidewalks off our own cupcakes. I looked at it with one of those weird flights of fancy that I frequently took, and take to this day. I imagined subterranean pipes, and utilities the kind of which were beyond my ken, and subways, all under a layer of very messy dirt.

I have thought of sidewalks on cupcakes many times in the intervening sixty or so years, God help me. I just wish I could remember the flavor a little better.

No comments:

Post a Comment