A Taste of Heaven

In the 40-odd years (and they truly have been 40 of the oddest years you'll ever know!) that have passed since I was a little boy, there has been a proliferation of consumer products, including those in the realm of junk food. Back in the early 1970's, when I was a young boy, the ubiquity and variety of food products designed to tickle the taste buds had not yet reached today's prodigious levels.

And so it was, one fine sunny Sunday morning, when my father and I were walking towards our parked car somewhere in my hometown of Toronto, in an area a few miles north of downtown, after whatever father-and-son outing we had just completed, the sight of the popcorn man walking down the street plying his wares, triggered in me an immediate rush of excitement. An unexpected oasis in the urban desert!

I asked my father if I could have a bag, and he replied in the affirmative. We walked toward the man. He was wheeling a popcorn-making machine which had a whistle that made a most pleasing sound. My father ordered a bag. The man grabbed a small paper bag, scooped some fresh popcorn from his fabulous machine, and then covered it with golden yellow butter, that elixir of life.

My father and I then turned and headed back to the car, me armed with my prized new acquisition. Agghh! As I opened the door and climbed into the passenger side of the car, I tripped and fell forward, spilling my diamonds and rubies all over the seat and floor of my father's car! Talk about a fall from grace! A moment of perfection -- completely ruined!

My father saved the day: no fuss, no muss, the mess quickly and quietly cleaned up, and my father bought me a second bag of popcorn to replace the first one.

Of all of the moments and experiences of the decades of my life, there is not one memory that brings me any greater excellent feeling of pure blissful joy.

Many of us have our various notions of heaven, real or imagined. I guess that this is one of my ideas of heaven: your father quietly and gently helping you clean up the bag of popcorn you've accidentally spilled all over his car, and then buying you a second bag.