One of the great mysteries of the universe is who invented marshmallows. There should be a statue of that person somewhere and the faithful campers of the world should be required to make a pilgrimage to pay homage at least once in their lifetime. Next to the statue, engraved in granite, there would be a list of persons who claimed to be the first to roast the blue collar delicacy in a campfire.
Parents and grandparents would gather and place flowers at the base of the statue, their progeny in tow. Off to the side would be dozens of camp fires ringed with children excitedly holding coat hangers tipped with puffs of sugar dangling into the flames, each giggling as the treats burst into flames.
We were there this evening. I built the fire in our back yard. After we put fresh hay out for the cows and gathered the eggs, Charlie and Camdyn roasted the marshmallows. Simple pleasure, simple dessert, golden memories, for these I am thankful.
March 30, 2010