My son Ben claimed he didn’t like candy or sweets. As a football player during his high school years he stuck to a regular workout regiment and was a healthy eater, for the most part. I would chuckle when he would tell people he didn’t indulge in sweets. He seemed to have forgotten I had good knowledge that he did.
The love affair with ice cream began when he was about four. His grandma Kopp would invite him for Sunday dinner and make his favorite meal - scalloped potatoes and ham. No matter how full he got, he never said no to the vanilla ice cream cone she offered him after dinner. There was only one flavor - “balilla”. Yes, "balilla". That is how vanilla rolled off of little Benjamin's tongue. If you asked him what his favorite ice cream was he would excitedly proclaim, “BA-LILLA”! As these Sunday dates continued, Ben would tell me how he would stuff himself at dinner, but he still had to have ice cream afterward. The ice cream was store bought, but the scalloped potatoes and ham were a grandma Kopp specialty. I attempted to make them for him only twice and failed. I thought they were good, but they were NOT grandma Kopp's. Ben refused to eat them. I gave up. There was a special bond between her, Ben and those scalloped potatoes and ham - I didn’t make the cut!
When Ben was eight, I was giving him a piece of my mind about something he had done, or maybe not done. He had his back to me in the kitchen as he stuffed his face full of gum. It was bubble tape, a pink reel of powdered gum that came in one long strip rolled up like a tape measure. I asked him to turn around and look at me while I was talking (possibly yelling) to him. As soon as he did I saw that he had that pink powder all around his mouth and on his cheeks. I immediately forgot what I was upset about and saw an innocent child standing in front of me, an innocent child who was intent on getting his gum shoved in his face before his mom finished yelling at him. I apologized, gave him a hug and asked for some the gum.
When I was a young girl my family spent a lot of time at my grandparents lake home in northern Minnesota. To break up the three hour drive we would stop at the Dairy Queen, a good halfway stopping point. This became such a ritual that well into my adult life (well, actually until only a couple years ago when the place was sold), I would crave ice cream on the drive up and have to make that DQ stop! Ben would become a part of this. Over the years he graduated from "balilla" to a vanilla cone with sprinkles. We spent many weekends at the cabin. After my grandfather died and my grandmother could no longer live there alone, we continued our visits. In addition to stopping for ice cream on the way up we had discovered two local shops that sold ice cream cones. Once again, no matter how full Ben was from dinner, he wanted ice cream afterward. By this time he was old enough to drive (either with his learners permit or his license). I know he wanted the ice cream, but I’m pretty sure it was also an excuse to drive somewhere.
Ben came to love two more ice cream flavors; mint chocolate chip and strawberry. At our favorite ice cream shop he would order a double scoop in a waffle cone. The scoopers at this shop were generous, which is likely why it was our favorite! I could barely finish my single scoop, but it was always worth the trip, if not for the ice cream, for the time spent with Ben enjoying something he loved.
Banana bread was a treat both of my grandmother’s made better than anyone. Their recipes were similar and I wasted no time learning how to make it myself. If there was a sweet that ran a close second to ice cream for Ben, it was banana bread. He would practically stand over the oven and wait for it to be done so he could cut a thick slab and melt a knife full of butter on it. He would easily eat an entire loaf in 2-3 sittings. I quickly learned if I wanted some I had to double the batch and make two loaves. After he joined the Army and would come home on leave, I would have two freshly baked loaves waiting for him and then make more to take back to Ft. Benning. He boasted about how he liked to share it with his buddies. Sometimes it was still warm after the two hour flight because he would triple wrap the loaves to keep them that way.
When basic training followed by deployments became part of his life, Ben would send lists of treats he wanted sent to him. It was then he declared a love for reese’s pieces and swedish fish. My sister complied with his every request and also included a few more items for the sweet tooth he didn’t have. So, every care package sent to him included reeses pieces and swedish fish and soft batch chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter.
On the special dates that I honor Ben, I indulge in the treats he claimed he didn’t eat. I found a grocery store close to me that sells swedish fish. I only buy the red ones because that’s what Ben liked. I don’t buy the pre-packaged ones, they have to be fresh. I will find my way to an ice cream shop where I can get a generous scoop of mint chocolate chip or I will buy a movie theater size bag of reese’s pieces and eat them all….for Ben.
My friend Jennifer always brings him something sweet when she visits his grave. For his 29th birthday, she brought a cake and a giant bag of reese’s pieces and poured them all over the cake. I don’t imagine he is counting calories in Heaven and can over indulge in all the treats he wants. Ahhh, what sweet memories.
