The Rise of the One-Bite Bar

I am a candy bar freak from way back. In fact, from so far back that I can't remember not desiring those delectable divinities--Milky Way, Three Musketeers, Snickers, Buns, Reese Peanut Butter Cups--anything coated in chocolate (excepting the coconut kind, of course)--was on my list. How I relished being given a nickel to take to the grocery. Certainly the choice was agonizing, and I'll admit, I occasionally chose some bubble gum and suckers over the candy bar, but that was only to save the savoring of the chocolate bar, to intensify my craving, to make myself remember that the chocolate was superior.

I can well remember going with my aunt and her collie, Tippy, to the grocery. Aunt Margaret would always buy Tippy a Clark Bar (they were his favorite). I didn't get anything. She told me I'd become a diabetic. I must admit that on a couple of spiteful occasions I ripped off one of my uncle's candy bars. He was a diabetic. He didn't care, though. In fact, he sneaked them to me. (Sneaked candy bars have more chocolate coating.)

And then, of course, there was Halloween. After I dumped the candy corn and apples, I'd have all those neatly packaged morsels to parcel out, day by day, bite by bite. Sometimes three or four a day, even. I had very little willpower. Besides, Mother always knew how many I had had; I'd have chocolate breath. Also, that was before anyone had to worry about what the neighbors might have injected into the bar. The special neighbors always saved a big candy bar for their good little friends. That certainly solidified their neighborhood reputation.

And then there was candy at the movies (although popcorn was the traditional first choice), and candy after swimming and candy at the beach and candy just because you'd been especially good. Here, it is necessary to point out the fact that Mother used proper psychology. Candy was a treat, but there was not to be any connection between candy and good deeds. But I knew the truth.

I never even wanted any of those expensive, boxed chocolates. Those were for prissy old people who kept doilies on the backs of their chairs. Besides, you had to eat those slowly and you could only reach for one or two. After that, unapproving stares bored right through to your filling-ridden teeth.

And then, of course, there came the dermatologist stage. Chocolates were forbidden, along with everything else that had kept you functioning all those years. It was almost too much to bear. And if you ever tried to snack surreptitiously, you really did break out. I've decided, though, it was from guilt, not chocolates.

And then the orthodontist. He wasn't too bad. He frowned on chocolates, but didn't make many demands, except about caramels. That was pretty difficult, though. And sometimes you just couldn't know a caramel would be inside until you had bitten into it, and of course it would be a waste to throw away a perfectly good candy bar.

I realize that natural food people may be appalled by this confectionery confession, but deep in their granola souls lies some remembrance of refined sugared things past. But no more of this sweet tooth's wanderings.

One may wonder what prompted this saccharine outburst. After completing a paper, I needed a treat. (That's good psychology.) I attempted to recapture the sweet joys of youth and made a startling revelation. Vending machines, while making a profit for their owners, stock inferior candy--and even what they do have is stale. Candy bars cost a fortune. No longer can one be a gourmand on a nickel delight. Even the 15 cent and 20 cent bars have shrunk. My mouth isn't that much bigger, but the bars are consumable in one bite.

And thus the disillusionment, the rude awakening, the shaking shoulders. The candy companies have succumbed to the scandals of modern-day industry. And you know it takes milk to make milk chocolate--or at least powdered something. And corn syrup is surely made out of something surplus sold to the other side.

But it's too late to recapture those glorious days of childhood. Today's Sesame Street children probably have been taught to reach for an educational book instead of a chocolate snack. Adults eat yogurt. Everybody else diets.

The quality of American life, alas, certainly has degenerated. (Now the candy bar wouldn't even go to the dog.)

What this country still needs is a good five-cent chocolate bar.