by Evan Perez

3/7/2023

English 110

The City College of New York

Professor Vicars

“Do one thing that brings out your inner child”

“Yep, that’s your nickname: Chowder.” my uncle chuckled, walking into the next room. I slouched in front of the TV, my 11-year-old brain failing to realize the impact of the event that just occurred. You see, most of my childhood, and even into my early years of college, I spent most of my time with my grandma. Half my life I lived with her and within that period, you could argue that she spoiled me. She would always buy snacks for me, cookies, gummies, chips, candy, Little Debbie snacks, you name it, at some point in time, a box of snacks was in the pantry, waiting for me to find them. I loved snacks, I love snacks now, and I will always love snacks. A big snacker they called me, Chowder. She brought home snacks because she knew I always loved them, even before I lived with her. Within the past several months, I’ve been avoiding snacking as to cut down on spending habits and encourage general fat loss which is part of my current weight training regime. This weekend, I did something that brought my inner child out, I snacked. 

There were three elements of my snacking session: a Crunch chocolate bar, a lemon pound cake, and a cold Mug Root Beer. Let’s start with the Crunch bar. Taking a crisp bight out of the chocolate bar brought memories back from the early days at my family’s carwash. I remember hanging out there as a child, bored to death at times sitting behind the register while my mom handled customers and my uncles and grandpa washed cars out in the summer heat. Occasionally, my mom would send me off with some change to pick something out of the vending machine at the end of the main hallway, it was an old guy’s vending machine, he still restocks it to this day. After sliding the coins into the machine and watching the chocolate bar fall, I would frantically unwrap it and chow down. The bar of Crunch chocolate would snap and every bite of cacao and crisp rice carried…a crunch. 

I tossed the wrapper back in the bag I got it in, next was the pound cake. The sweet waft of lemon would hit my face like a wall before I could even take a bite. We’re back at grandma’s, younger me went crazy when we finally made it back to the house from Walmart. The summer heat never made carrying the bags inside fun, but finally walking inside an air-conditioned house always made me grateful for the heat in a weird way. At least 10 Walmart bags full of food, cleaning supplies, and of course, snacks, crowded the kitchen counter. The Walmart bags made a soft wisping sound as they were emptied of their contents and rolled up to be stored underneath the sink. The last thing to be unpacked was a blue box full of yellow pound cakes, the only thing I cared about. I ripped open the box and grabbed one, opening the little bag it was stored in. As I stuffed my face with the roll of sweet bread, I thanked my grandma. She smiled and replied, “I love you papa” as she hugged and kissed me.

“Pound cakes are always so dry,” I thought to myself as I threw away the pound cake wrapper in the trash along with the Crunch bar wrapper. I needed to wash it down, the dryness. I reached for the cold Root Beer, good ol Mug Root Beer, like an American. I cracked open the can, my nose being met with what I can only describe as a “cold” type of smell. The gas station was just down the street from where I used to live, before living with grandma. It was a duplex at the edge of town. My dad and I were always big video game players, we played everything together. There was a TV special for one of our favorite video games, it was gonna premiere at 9:30 PM. The time was 9:00 PM, “Let’s go get snacks” my Dad said. With a sense of urgency and excitement, we hopped in the car and cruised down the street to the gas station. I walked in with awe, paralyzed by the number of choices I had for my movie snacks. The brands and colors that painted the shelves spoke with comfort and coziness. My dad went one way and I went the other, trying to figure out what I wanted in the short amount of time that I had. There it was, it caught my eye for a second and I almost kept going, but I was pulled in. Mug Root Beer, the dog on the label carried such confidence and a welcoming look, just what I was feeling. Back at the house, we got situated to enjoy the next hour or so, we had made it right on time. With a smile, I cracked open the bottle, the contents fizzing and popping just like my excitement for the premiere.