January 27 '01         
	  

	  Volume 243
	    

	  Sweet Tooth For Candy
	  Bars 
	    

	  

	  Yes, it's true. I have a
	  sweetKit Kat tooth. One must, of course, understand I am speaking figuratively.
	  The majority of my existing teeth, having been capped, crowned, or bridged,
	  now bear little resemblance to the originals, but then that's true of much
	  of me.
	  

	  As I reflect on the expression, "sweeth tooth," I question its origin. Do
	  you suppose "sweet tooth" once referred to a decayed tooth or exposed root
	  from a receding gum line¾one that
	  hurt when something sweet got near it? Maybe, later the usage of "sweet tooth"
	  was modified to include one's craving for something sweet. In any case, I
	  love sweets, or more particularly, sweets in the sense of sugary foods.
	  

	  On Christmas Eve or shortly thereafter, Santa Claus was nice enough to fill
	  the few stockings that had been placed "by the chimney with care," and among
	  the goodies therein were some assorted candy bars. As Barbara and I were
	  readying to make yet another journey back to Greenville from Pontotoc the
	  other Sunday, she picked up one of the Christmas leftovers and opened it
	  in the car, as I began to back out of the garage.
	  

	  "Would you like a bite of my Kit Kat?" she offered.
	  

	  My response was a hasty, "No."
	  

	  The remark was short but not terse and held no hint of rejection or repulsion.
	  It was just a simple answer to a simple question. I could have been more
	  polite by suffixing my answer with a "thank you," but I didn't. If that marks
	  me as uncouth, so be it. I'm a nice guy but I'm not always the most thoughtful
	  and courteous of spouses. As far as I know, I did not offend my wife by leaving
	  off the "thank you." Perhaps, she's given up on me.
	  

	  We were several miles outside of Pontotoc, when I reconsidered her offer,
	  and after spying the open wrapper of the candy bar in the utility tray, picked
	  it up, and discovered part of the candy remained. This time, I asked the
	  question, inquiring as to whether or not the offer of a bite of the Kit Kat
	  still held. She said it did, so I helped myself to a section of the treat.
	  

	  As my teeth pushed through the waxy chocolate covering of the Kit Kat and
	  into the wafers below, I could not help wondering how the sweet treat ever
	  got classified as a candy bar. In my mind, the Kit Kat belongs in the cookie
	  classification, for it reminds me of a sugar wafer that has been dipped into
	  a vat of chocolate. Furthermore, a man should be able to eat a candy bar
	  and feel satisfied. A single Kit Kat offers little more than enough to make
	  you want another one. I don't like them well enough to eat my fill of them,
	  so I can't tell you how many I would have to eat to feel full.
	  

	  Don't ask where the next sentence came from, unless you are thinking of,
	  "out of the blue." How many Kats could a Kitty Cat Kit if a Kitty Cat could
	  Kit Kats? That's a variation on the woodchuck theme, but no less challenging.
	  

	  It must have been my unfulfilled "sweet tooth" yearning, triggered by the
	  Kit Kat, that set my mind wandering among the various candy bars that I have
	  enjoyed the last half-century. My, but there are many.
	  

	  The Baby Ruth bar was an early favorite, as was the Payday. The two bars
	  are quite similar, with a chewy center underneath a layer of peanuts. Chocolate
	  is the saving grace of the Baby Ruth, as it is not completely wrapped in
	  peanuts. When I look at either candy bar, today, neither reminds me of those
	  of my youth.
	  

	  Once upon a time, years ago, all candy bars were bigger, but then something
	  called inflation came, as a great mist over all the land where candy bars
	  were made. The candy makers raised the price of their goods and shrunk their
	  candy bars appreciably. In some cases the basic shapes of the bars were altered.
	  I remember the Payday bar when it was mostly round or log shaped, but the
	  modern version has been flattened.
	  

	  A better example of alteration is the Mars bar. As a child, I thought there
	  was no finer tasting candy bar on earth than the Mars bar. Others must have
	  been of the same persuasion, or so stated the manufacturer's slogan, "My
	  stars, how does Mars make such wonderful candy bars?"
	  

	  
	  

	  The Mars bar was as wide as a dollar bill, though somewhat shorter, and I
	  loved the nougat center. The two or more whole almonds that topped off the
	  nougat lay buried beneath a milk chocolate layer that surrounded the entire
	  bar. One could munch bites of the Mars bar with or without almonds or pick
	  off the almonds, if he or she did not like nuts, and still enjoy a wonderfully
	  sweet sensation.
	  

	  

	  The present Mars bar pales in comparison to the original.
	   It is
	  shaped to conform to the same size limitations of its competitors, plus the
	  nuts are chunked up inside the nougat. See illustration:
	  

	  My wife remembers when the sectioned 3-Musketeers bar was big enough to share
	  with playmates, and someone I've spoken to, remembers there were once different
	  colors in each of the three sections, but I'm wondering if they're confusing
	  candy with ice cream. I remember the size of the bars, too, but I don't remember
	  them being large enough to share. However, a Hershey bar may have been sharable.
	  After all, there were plenty of small sections that could be broken from
	  the large flat candy bar of yesteryear's Hershey, and if one wanted nuts
	  in his or her chocolate, Hershey's with Almonds catered to that whim.
	  

	  Will Rogers is often quoted, "I never met a man I didn't like," and while
	  I can't say the same for all the men I've met, I can pretty much make a similar
	  statement about a candy bar, "I never ate a candy bar I didn't like."
	  

	  My enjoyment of candy bars spans the alphabet. I like them from the A in
	  Almond Joy, through the B's of Bit-O-Honeys and Butterfingers, beyond the
	  M's of Mounds and Milky Way, all the way to the Z's of the Zagnut and Zero.
	  

	  I like candy bars with nuts whether they are peanuts, almonds, or shreds
	  of coconuts. I like them with chocolate or without, and I like candy bars
	  with a layer of caramel inside, too. I like bars that are crunchy, chewy,
	  hard, or soft¾as long as it's sweet,
	  I can eat it.
	  

	  Granted there are a few items I won't buy, but will eat, such as the Kit
	  Kat. I guess I would buy it if I had no other choices. I've never been much
	  of a fan of the Whatchamacallit bar either. Somehow, the name was a turnoff,
	  because if they didn't know what to call it, why should I eat it?
	  

	  If I were pressed to nominate but one candy bar as an American favorite,
	  I would pick the Snickers bar. I may go for weeks on end without eating a
	  Snickers bar, but I do the same with any particular candy bar. There are
	  plenty of good ones, and while I tend to settle on one as a favorite for
	  a few weeks and then switch to another one for a few weeks, I tend to stay
	  with a Snickers longer than I do with the others. Snickers has the best mix
	  of the most popular products used in candy making, milk chocolate for pure
	  pleasure, chewy caramel to make it interesting, a creamy nougat for desirable
	  softness, and chopped peanuts for the crunch lovers and the irresistible
	  taste of peanut butter.
	  

	  If readers wish to nominate their favorite candy bar, I'll be happy to share
	  their nominations in this newsletter. I've told you of my sweet tooth, tell
	  me about yours.
	  

	    

	  Bennett Bits
	  Jo Kim Lisa Dena 
	    

	  

	  The union of W. F. "Cricket" Bennett and Jo Branscome produced three daughters.
	  From oldest to youngest their names are Kim, Lisa, and Dena. Readers of this
	  newsletter are familiar with the name Lisa B. Rolik of Shreveport, LA, and
	  recognize her as one who often supplies Bodock Beau with a humorous article
	  or anecdote.
	  

	  Some readers will remember several articles over the years that mentioned
	  Kim Goslin, a former co-worker of this writer, who now makes her home in
	  Carrollton, MS. Having worked with Kim for a number of years, prior to her
	  leaving the company, and having maintained a friendship with her beyond the
	  workplace, I have become familiar with several of her family members. Yet,
	  apart from Kim's husband and two children, I'd never met either of her two
	  sisters or her mother until a recent church service in Pontotoc. When Kim's
	  dad passed away, within the past couple of years, I began to fear others
	  of her family might suffer the same fate, ere I chanced to meet them.
	  

	  The Bennett girls were all born and raised in the Delta town of Indianola,
	  but only one of them, Lisa, ventured far from her roots to pursue her career
	  interests. I became acquainted with Lisa, partly by listening to Kim tell
	  of her younger sister's exploits, and partly the result of our emailing each
	  other.
	  

	  Several years ago, Kim asked me to show her how to use my personal email
	  to correspond with Lisa when she spent a half-year in Sweden (may have been
	  Switzerland, didn't know I'd need to remember it). Email remains the least
	  expensive means of communicating with others, especially with someone overseas.
	  

	  Following her stay in Sweden, Lisa and I continued to correspond, occasionally,
	  after she returned to Dallas. Lisa was single at the time and had an air
	  of independence about her that characterizes each of her siblings as well
	  as her mother. I've never talked to Lisa, but I understand she talks more
	  than she writes. I've read her emails, and, preferring to keep things short
	  and to the point, she doesn't mince words.
	  

	  Lisa married Scott Rolik of Shreveport, LA the year before her father died,
	  and while she is closer to the Delta than when she lived in Dallas, we continue
	  to be in the wrong place at the wrong time to arrange a meeting. On holidays,
	  she may be in the Delta, but I'm in the Hills, and even when she visits Kim
	  in Carrollton we still can't seem to work out our schedules for a get-together.
	  

	  Dena is the youngest of the Bennett girls, and like her mom chose a career
	  in nursing. Dena and her husband, Bob Kimbrell, have two children and are
	  expecting a third child this summer. Though two of the children had moved
	  away from Indianola, Kim's mom had little reason to leave the Delta, following
	  the death of her husband, because her youngest child and her youngest
	  grandchildren remained in Indianola. Yet, when Dena and Bob moved to North
	  Mississippi, Miss Jo began to think of relocating.
	  

	  Last summer, Dena and Bob bought a house with a few acres in the Thaxton
	  area and invited Miss Jo to live with them. Some readers may remember, I
	  wrote an article about seeking out their property, and while in the area,
	  drove by the homestead of my granddad. At her daughter's invitation, Miss
	  Jo, her independence showing, opted to sell her house in Indianola and purchase
	  a double-wide premanufactured home to locate adjacent to Dena and Bob's house
	  near Thaxton.
	  

	  I hear of various events in the lives of the Bennett family, through Kim,
	  who remains a faithful friend. We aren't able to visit often, but the telephone
	  helps keep us connected. Kim has yet to climb aboard the "Computer/ Email"
	  train, so the "Bell Network" is the only "net" with which she is familiar.
	  

	  Slighly more than a week ago, Kim called to state her intrest in the article
	  I had written regarding the train under the Christmas tree. It seems she
	  and Mark had discussed purchasing something similar but failed to find what
	  they were looking for prior to Christmas. Kim also mentioned that her Thaxton
	  family members might soon be attending church at First Baptist in Pontotoc.
	  Kim and her family were members of First Baptist in Indianola, and it has
	  been my observation that persons who hail from a First Church background
	  will generally seek out a First Church wherever they may move.
	  

	  Though, Kim felt it might be two or three weeks before her extended family
	  showed up, she wanted me to be alert to the possiblity of meeting her relations.
	  

	  As previously mentioned, I had not met her extended family and shared my
	  concern that I might not recognize them as her relatives, plus, since FBC
	  has begun having two services on Sunday morning, they might be at the one
	  I don't and won't attend.
	  

	  "Oh, you won’t have any trouble picking them out. They look like me,
	  plus Dena is pregnant" she supplied confidently.
	  

	  I don’t know why I believed her, but I did. Kim once drew off the directions
	  to her house in Carrollton, and Barbara and I had to call her on our cell
	  phone to actually find the place. Last year the directions she supplied directing
	  me to her sister's place at Thaxton, left something to be desired. Somehow,
	  her confidence overpowered my skepticism, so I actually believed I could
	  scan a congregation of three hundred fifty or so folks and pick out her
	  relatives.
	  

	  I pulled usher duty last Sunday, so it was a few minutes after the receipt
	  of the offering before I found my seat alongside my family on Row 5 East.
	  I had missed the opportunity to look around the congregation for friends
	  and visitors during the portion of the service devoted to greeting others.
	  

	  After the special music for the morning, the pastor's sermon was interesting
	  enough to keep my thoughts from wandering. I gave no thought to looking for
	  visitors throughout the congregation, though I did notice one family on Row
	  3 East that I presumed to be visitors, but since none of them appeared pregnant,
	  nothing jogged my memory concerning Kim's folks.
	  

	  At the close of the service I moved toward an exit but held up to wait for
	  Barbara and Sarah who had stopped to chat with a friend. You could say it
	  came as a surprise to me, when someone caught my arm. The woman I turned
	  to see looked familiar, so my mind raced through the possibilities,"someone
	  from my past…someone wanting to sway me on the flag issue…someone,
	  maybe, a distant relative…"
	  

	  I had not raced far, mentally, when I heard her state, "Excuse me. Are you
	  Wayne Carter?"
	  

	  Someday, I may get shot for admitting to being who I am, but as is my custom,
	  when so asked, I responded, "Yes, I am."
	  

	  Extending her hand in a friendly gesture, we shook hands, bringing relief
	  from the possibility of my being shot, slapped, or otherwise accosted.
	  

	  "I'm Jo Bennett," she responded, "Kim's mother."
	  

	  I expressed my profound delight in meeting her, and asked about the rest
	  of the Thaxton folks.
	  

	  "They had planned to come with me, but Dena wasn't feeling well this morning.
	  You know she's pregnant," she replied.
	  

	  In the ensuing moments, I introduced Miss Jo to my wife, my sister, our church
	  secretary, and later our pastor. He grew up in Clarksdale, MS, and Miss Jo
	  from the not too distant, albeit smaller community of Pope, MS. They were
	  able to name several individuals known by each of them from their respective
	  hometowns.
	  

	  Standing in a stiff cold wind, I was glad when they finished reminiscing,
	  and I was able to help Miss Jo to her car. From talking to Kim, I knew her
	  mother had not been to Pontotoc more than twice, so I asked Miss Jo if she
	  knew how to get back to Thaxton. She shared how she had driven in, but knowing
	  of a shorter route home, I told her to follow us out to the 4-way stop.
	  

	  I pulled to a stop in front of the Produce Market and assurred her she'd
	  have no trouble if she followed Hwy. 6 west. She thanked me for the directions,
	  and we departed, after inviting one another to visit our respective homes.
	  

	  Now, as to her "looking like" her daugher, Kim. Yes, there is a facial
	  resemblence, and in a lineup I might have picked her out as Jo Bennett, but
	  in the brief time I was given to make the determination earlier, and through
	  no fault of Kim, I couldn't put it all together.
	  

	    

	  Bodock Beau  Deer
	  Hunters 
	    

	  

	  Two (substitute your college of choice, or Mississippi State) lads decided
	  to go duck hunting. Neither of them had been duck hunting previously, and
	  after several hours they still haven't bagged any.
	  

	  One hunter looked at the other and said, "I just don't understand it - why
	  aren't we getting any ducks? The man said that dog could get any ducks that
	  came by!"
	  

	  His friend said, "I keep telling you, I just don't think we're throwing the
	  dog high enough."
	  

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