The house that built me
I’m no Miranda Lambert fan but that song gets me.
Just rolled in from a much-needed Disney weekend that turned into a Disney week.
I decided to upgrade my FL resident pass to an annual pass. Look out, (Disney) world.
I figure 17 visits will make it pay for itself. Six down!
Anyway I just turned on the History Channel (though I do try to watch a lot of PBS because it’s apparently an act of resistance). They have “The Foods That Built America” on and I got the “A Box of Chocolates” episode.
It reminded me that my Grampy would buy a box of Russell Stover chocolates for each of us, every Valentine’s Day.
Gram would get a huge heart. Mom would get a medium one and I’d get a small one.
I loved that. I looked forward to that every year.
When he left us, I always bought Mom a Dove truffles heart. We got bougie, clearly.
What’s funny now is how I’m watching the Whitman’s, Hershey’s and Russell Stover of it all on this show and going meh.
That shit is SO mid.
Once you’ve had Max Brenner, ain’t nothing going to impress you.
Since my one reader loves to try things I love and pooh pooh them, I’m sure she’ll follow me to Brooklyn this summer and ride over to Union Station to try it and then whine about how meh it is because it isn’t Ferrero Rocher or some shit.
Anyway, I just had that powerful memory of my grandfather with those hearts. It’s been 19 Valentine’s Days since he could give me one.
But I will never forget how happy it made him to give us his heart.