July 16: Popcorn in the Afternoon

I've fallen into the habit of having popcorn in the afternoon at work.  I prefer good kettle corn, but I'm kid of a popcorn tramp.  As long as it's white with a little salt and butter, I'm happy.

When I was a kid, I remember popcorn being a huge treat, usually reserved for watching the annual TV broadcast of The Wizard of Oz on CBS.  On those nights, my mother wold make several huge batches of popcorn (with oil on the stove), and we would gather in the living room at the appointed hour to watch Dorothy and company.  Out hands would get greasy; any little cut on my fingers would sting with the salt.  I would eat bowl after bowl of it, until my face was coated in popcorn oil residue.

Maybe that's why having popcorn every afternoon makes me happy.  It reminds me of simpler times, when all I worried about was whether the Tin Man would get a heart or Dorothy would find her way back to Kansas.  When all I feared were monkeys with plastic faces swooping out of the clouds to snatch me away.  When the popcorn was unending.

And Saint Marty's troubles melted like lemon drops.

Somewhere over the rainbow pass the salt...