Whitman's Chocolates

My dad loved chocolate, and his favorite was Whitman's. When he was here with us in Texas in 1997, he would ask me to stop at Walgreen's on the way to the Senior Center and he would go into that store and buy the familiar yellow box of Whitman's. He wouldn't even let the clerk put the box of chocolates into a plastic shopping bag because he said they always turned the box sideways instead of keeping it top-side up. Into the Senior Center he would go, holding that box of Whitman's as if it were filled with gold. After lunch was served, he would share the large box of chocolates with everyone there.

My dad always bought Whitman's chocolates to my grandmother's house. My grandmother and Aunt Dolly would save those yellow boxes for buttons and zippers and ribbons... anything that could be saved in a pretty box ended up in the empty Whitman's boxes. My Uncle Mino would use a thin knife to slice the Whitman's chocolates in half, which seemed ridiculous to my father. Uncle Mino's reasoning was that he wanted to see what was inside the chocolate before he ate it. My dad's answer to that was Just ask me, Mino! I know what's inside all of them! And they're all good anyway, so what's the difference?! But Uncle Mino would always take his little knife, cut the candy in half... and sometimes he would slice off just a thin piece from the edge if my dad was watching. Which would get daddy to saying If they wanted the chocolate sliced that way, they would have put a knife right in the box!

There were a few rules about the Whitman's in my grandmother's house--- you ate the piece that you bit, you didn't touch any of the pieces except the ones you wanted to eat, and the little "Messenger Boy" piece had to be saved for me. The Messenger Boy was just plain chocolate, no nuts, no chewy centers, no caramel. Just a thin block of Whitman's chocolate with the etching of a Messenger Boy on top-- plain chocolate with nothing else added. When daddy opened a new box, he would hold the box out to me and say Take the little Messenger Boy before your uncle cuts him in half.

About a week before Christmas when I was in WalMart shopping for groceries, I looked in the baking aisle for sugar cubes. I haven't found one sugar cube in this entire town, and haven't had sugar cubes in the sugar bowl since we left Clear Lake. The Hill Country is just a loose-sugar part of the state, I guess. Right there on the shelf with the bags of sugar was a small size box of Whitman's chocolates, the tiny four-piece size, and that box had Christmas paper on it instead of their usual yellow box. That little box was sealed with the usual cellophane wrapping, and I found a WalMart person and asked if they had any more of those. She told me to look in the aisle with the holiday candy.

Up and down that aisle I went, never did find another little box of Whitman's wrapped in the Christmas-design paper, or any other small-sized boxes of Whitman's. I bought that little box and enjoyed it myself, one piece at time over a few days, and I saved the cute little box. Today was another WalMart day, and I looked in the Christmas aisle for the wire-edged ribbons that I knew would be half-price. Right there next to the green sparkly ribbons was another small box of Whitman's in Christmas paper. Unopened. Wrapped in cellophane. Again, I found a WalMart person to show them the box and ask if they had any other Whitman's in the Christmas paper instead of the yellow box. That girl told me she hadn't seen those little boxes before. And just where 'bout did y'all find that little-bitty box?

It didn't matter where I found it. What matters is that I found two small Christmas-wrapped boxes of Whitman's when I wasn't looking for them, in aisles where they shouldn't have been in the first place. What matters is that my dad always bought Whitman's, and what matters even more is that when he found those small boxes wrapped in holiday papers, he would buy me one to put in my purse. "Just in case you're out and want a piece of chocolate," he would say.

I have a tiny box of Whitman's filled with paper clips-- the box is made of tin, like the old tin boxes that band-aids used to come in. The tin box was a special holiday edition box, made in bright shiny gold for Christmas. Daddy found that one in the store years ago when he went in to buy a box for the Senior Center. He bought the big yellow box for the Seniors, and the little gold metal box for me, to keep in my purse. Just in case you're out.....

Finding both of those small boxes of Whitman's on the WalMart shelves was a nice surprise. Two nice surprises. Of course, I could imagine that my dad put them on the shelves for me to find. But of course he didn't. He couldn't have.

I thought of daddy a lot this Christmas, especially when I set out the Nativity that we had back in the 'old house on 97th Street' when I was a kid, and when I found the little boxes of Whitman's.

I wish daddy could have seen this big old house. He would have loved it. He would have made sure there was always a box of Whitman's on the dining room table, just like in 'the old house' and just like at my grandmother's.

I love Christmas. I love the whole idea of Christmas. But after taking down all the decorations, I'm also glad that it's over. Christmas makes you think of everything that was and everything that could have been. Christmas makes you nostalgic and senseless. Or maybe it's just all that chocolate.