Chocolate Memory Rush

As a young child, I remember my mother making chocolate fudge. I wondered at the process, which appeared part science and part nervous breakdown!

Fudge is fussy, and real old-fashioned fudge is not made with marshmallow cream or condensed milk. It is made with sugar, half and half, corn syrup, two types of chocolate, a pinch of salt, a bit of butter, and a touch of vanilla. The rest is determined by a candy thermometer and a lot of patience.

I make fudge once a year, and although this is not my mother's recipe, my entire family agrees that it is as good as Mom's. This makes me smile, even though I threw out an entire saucepan of cream and sugar because I measured wrong tonight! (Am I distracted?)

The fudge making mistake gave me a flashback of my mom looking at her candy thermometer in horror, realizing that it had cooled too far to add the butter and vanilla. She pretty much lost it. I was pretty young at the time, and remember going and giving her a hug because she had to go to the store and start all over again. (Distractions will cause one's fudge to fail - believe me.)

This simple pan of fudge also made me remember the day I almost died. You see, I had CNN on while I was making this fudge, listening to the news, and gasping in horror that the NRA proposed adding armed Police officers in every school in the U.S.A..

Huh? Seriously?

That will not prevent mass shootings. As long as people are allowed to own dangerous guns, someone will always have a bigger gun. It's absurd.

When I was 12 years old. my mom, my sister Margaret, and I went to visit her boyfriend's family in Vermont. While at the young man's grandmother's home, his younger brother decided to show us his grandma's antique Luger pistol.

The problem arose when he pointed the gun at my head and said, "Look Grandma, I'm going to shoot your gun for everyone!"

Grandma flew across the room, screaming, "NO!" She grabbed the gun from him, quickly did some fussing with it, and dumped bullets in her hand.

I looked at my mom, who looked at my sister, who looked at me. I was as white as a ghost, and old enough to realize what had just happened.

All of the memories of that day rushed into my head this afternoon, as I finished this pan of fudge. When will people learn?

Guns kill.

Thankful to still be alive, baking, and making candy, I can only pray that our government puts a stop to people being able to possess guns that belong in the Military, not in people's homes.

May the light and love of this precious season be with you and your families.

With sweetness and love,

from me,

to you.