Dubious Quality

Pop-Tarts, as unlikely as it might sound, have been a significant part of my life. I was three when they were invented, and I tried all four of the original flavors: apple, strawberry, blueberry, and brown sugar cinnamon. 

When I was a kid, I was stuck on blueberry, because it was so sweet, especially frosted blueberry. As I "matured" (that word is always in air quotes for me), though, my favorite flavor for the next forty years became brown sugar cinnamon. 

Breakfast, desert, snack--it was all good.

After Eli 22.5 was born, a new consumer emerged, and new ways to use them for breakfast in emergency situations. On his hockey trips in the 10.0-12.0 range, he sometimes had games at 6 a.m. The hockey hotel breakfast buffet was never open at 4 a.m., so on more than one occasion, a blow dryer heated up his Pop-Tarts. On other occasions, I used hand warmers. 

Once COVID hit, and I was in my own apartment for the first time in almost thirty years, I discovered a new flavor: cinnamon roll. It was spectacular, and I ate them every day for breakfast. For months. For years. Over a thousand individual Pop-Tarts, easily. Toasted, Microwaved. Straight out of the package. It didn't really matter.

Over my lifetime, I'm guessing I've eaten over three thousand. Maybe even four.

Once I found out about my cholesterol level and ruthlessly eliminated saturated fat from my diet, Pop-Tarts left, too. I still miss them, and I'll still have one (but only one) on occasion. It always makes me feel like a happy kid.

I knew that Michigan was the epicenter of the development of breakfast cereal in the early 1900s, but I had no idea that Bill Post, a giant among men, lived in Grand Rapids. I didn't find out until I saw the article today that he had had passed away. 

Thanks, Bill. Sincerely.