Orange Slices
More than a Candy.
Orange Slices, you know the kindânot actual fruit slices, but the candy.
My sweetheart mentioned them this morning. And suddenly, Iâm 10 years old again. Iâm at my great-grandmotherâs house in Warner Robins, GA. I remember walking into that house on the first Sunday of August, just like it was yesterday.
The Polk Family Reunion was held in Warner Robins for idk-how-many years. But I didnât miss one from birth, until the last real one was held back in the early 2000âs. It was a ritual. But it fell apart when my grandfather passed. In hind sight, that wasnât the only thing that fell apart after Papa diedâŠ
Side note- Papa, Charlie Joe, was my idolâIâve written a series of short stories titled, The Merchant Marines, which were inspired by one of the many stories that he told me over the years. And Papa always swore his name was Charles, but I remember Mama Polk saying otherwise, and his birth certificate proves she was right. This past October, my daughter named my first grandson, Brooks Charlie, after Papa. đ€©
All three of my girls attended those reunions too, though Iâm sure it doesnât mean the same for them as it did for me. Sure they enjoyed the time we spent there, but for me it was really special. I looked forward to that first Sunday of August for many yearsâeven as a teenager, I wouldnât miss it for anything. I remember the first time my sweetheart went too, and how my extended family welcomed her with open armsâthree years later she rewarded them with Sara, and five generations were represented at the next few reunions.
As a child, it was so magical! I would get to spend the night with my grandparents the night before, and we would get up and leave early Sunday morning. My parents wouldnât arrive to the reunion until around lunch. Papa would always stop at the Hardeeâs in Hawkinsville on the way for a biscuit, which for some reason was a very special treat in my young mind.
We would arrive at Mama Polkâs house around 8 or 8:30 AMâit was about a 2 hour drive counting the biscuit/restroom stop. And I seem to remember an ongoing dispute about which route was fasterâPapa always went the âback way,â and there seemed to be an endless amount of turns to make. Of course I followed suit once I started driving, and relished in the fact that I also knew the âback way,â like the back of my own hand! After a visit with the matriarch, we'd head over to Uncle Billyâs for the main event, and then weâd spend the rest of the afternoon at Uncle Bubbaâs house swimming. Papa was the oldest of five boysâtwo lived there, one in North Carolina, and one in Kansas.
Mama Polk was my Papaâs mama. She was a tiny little thing, white headed, and Iâm told had quite a bit of spunkâthough I never once heard her raise her voice. Mama Polk wasnât overly sweet or tough, like I remember many women of her generation being. She was quiet, but attentive. When you spoke with Mama Polk, you had her full attention.
I can still see Mama Polk standing in her kitchen, always busy, always moving, even though she must have been well into her eighties by this time. My eldest daughter carries my great-grandmotherâs namesake, Sara. No H, we wonât get into that right nowâŠ
Mama Polkâs small living room had a piano, her wooden rocking chair, a couch, and one other chair in it that sat in front of a big bay window. On the table beside that chair sat a rose colored crystal bowl with, thatâs right you guessed it, Orange Slices in it.
Evidently they still make Orange Slices, which is rather surprising. Itâs not a particularly good candy, especially given all the options available today. I liked them, sure, but I doubt I wouldâve ever chosen them over virtually anything else, had there been a choice.
Still though, I love Orange Slices! And I relish any chance I have to eat oneânot because they are gooey, and hella orange flavored, but for the magic they invoke.
For me, Orange Slices represent a carefree little boyâsurrounded by a family that loves him. They are a symbol of love and understanding.
They carry the frail, but loving embrace of my Mama Polk. The smile and attention she would brandish, when her great grandson would arrive on that Sunday morning. And the wonderful times I had with cousins that live in other states. If not for those reunions, I might have never met some of them.
Orange Slices are the Brunswick Stew recipe, that I still canât seem to master. They are the seemingly neverending âFamily Pictureâ. You know, the one where you and thirty members of your extended family are standing in the heatâwaiting on the one or two that are always running behind, to come and get in the pictureâŠ
Come on, take it alreadyâlet's say the blessing so we can eat!
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this post, please consider sharing it and clicking that †button, and Iâd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. And if youâre an email reader, just hit replyâI want to hear from you too! Is there a candy or snack that sends you back in time?
Hereâs the first, of the four section short story series titled- The Merchant Marinesđ«Ą
Not a good candy? You kidding me? I love some orange slices. đ
Love this, MJ. Those orange slices, although Iâd prefer the real thing, Iâm a real fruit nut! And your Mama Polkâ just beautiful. Also, your voice! That fabulous Southern accent is so vivid now, I donât even need to listen, I can hear you just by reading.