BUILDING SWEET MEMORIES
Remember those chalky-tart-sweet lollipop candies? Kinda UFO shaped, in pastels, on a hollow plastic stick? Lollies—I loved the name, the taste and the sugar. I overindulged on them for one week every summer—the week in July my parents rented a cabin at the Crow’s Nest resort on Long Lake in northern Wisconsin. The main lodge served up Lollies, a nickel apiece. My dad booked the same cabin every year. I swatted mosquitoes on the same knotty-pine bedroom wall. Ate fresh-caught walleye at the same Formica-topped table. Played foosball with the same friends in the lodge, jukebox blaring. And I experienced my first kiss at 13—a singular moment—and I’m not saying any more ‘bout that. Loads of Lollies. Millions of mosquitoes. Sand sticking to my sunscreen. And that one moment. The memories are…