A Family Affair

Time goes fast. It feels like just yesterday I was young, full of dreams, and convinced that life would stretch out endlessly. Now, as I look back, I realize how fleeting the moments were. And how many of life's sweetest moments are connected to our fourth sense.

So, as my time in this world grows shorter, I find myself reminiscing about the snack foods that shaped me, the ones that taught me what it means to love.

To the one who got away, thank you for the memories.

To the ones that stayed, thank you for showing me what true love looks like.

Kind Bar (2003)

Dear Daniel Lubetzky,

Thank you for inventing the KIND Bar. Just when I thought I’d aged out of snack fads, you came along and changed the game.

There I was, a 40-year-old, resigned to a life of sensible salads and midlife moderation, when bam! Your bar shows up at the supermarket checkout like a beacon of hope. A chance to indulge in something that was not only delicious but also didn’t make me feel like I was betraying my body.

The beauty of the KIND Bar is its simplicity. Nuts, fruit, a little dark chocolate, turned it into a perfectly portable rectangle of joy.

You’ve given me permission to snack without guilt, to enjoy life’s little pleasures without overthinking it. For that, I am eternally grateful.

Fruit Roll-Ups (1983)

Dear General Mills,

Thank you for inventing the Fruit Roll-Up. You gave me something I could trade with my little sister when I was 10 years old. I don’t think there was much fruit in them, but they did roll up.

When I was a child, Fruit Roll-Ups weren’t just a snack—they were a currency, a bargaining chip, a gold bar in my central candy bank. My little sister, who was 6 when they first came out, loved the strawberry ones, and I preferred tropical punch. Every time our mom packed them in our lunchboxes, it was like a secret stock market exchange in our bedrooms.

“I’ll trade you half of my tropical punch for your whole strawberry,” I’d say, trying to sound like a savvy negotiator.

“No way!” she’d fire back, her tiny hands clutching her prized roll-up. “You have to give me two of yours for one of mine!”

After trading, we’d sit there, peeling them off the plastic, giggling as we tried to see who could unroll theirs without tearing it.

So, thank you General Mills. Thank you for creating something that brought so much joy to my childhood and for giving me memories that I still cherish today.

Chex Mix (1985)

Dear Chex Mix,

Back in the 1980s, my Aunt Nancy would arrive at family gatherings with a massive homemade bowl of Chex Mix. My mom's Irish-American family would gather around the poker table, snacking on Chex Mix while letting the youngsters at the table win a few hands, and believe they were savvy card players. Soon, Chex Mix became available prepackaged everywhere.

Who knew a breakfast cereal could taste so good when coated in spices? Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder and breakfast cereal. You taught me that sometimes the best things in life are the simplest—just a mix of ingredients, a little love, and a lot of crunch.

Jelly Belly (1976)

Dear Inventor of Jelly Belly,

My father was a stoic man. A midwestern Clint Eastwood. Meat-and-potatoes. The kind of personal who believed that dessert was not for "real men". So, imagine my surprise when one day, he arrived home with a sparkle in his eyes and a box of jelly beans in his hands.

“Each one has a different flavor!” he said excitedly, as if he had just discovered something truly amazing. My siblings and I gathered around, ready to try flavors that have never before existed in candy form.

When my Dad opened the box, we would each be allowed to have one jelly bean (or was it 3? ). We didn't know what flavor we were choosing. Was it buttered popcorn? Or coconut? One wouldn't know until the flavor hit your taste buds.

It's been a while, I should look you up, and see what you taste like today.

McDonalds Fish Fillet (1962)

Dear McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish,

As a kid growing up in a Catholic household in Milwaukee Wisconsin, Friday meant no meat. I remember those Fridays vividly. Dinner at a neighborhood bar & grill with golden, crispy fish fry, dollops of tartar sauce, and side servings of fries and coleslaw.

Now I live overseas, far from the suburbs of my childhood. The Filet-O-Fish has become a comfort food in a vast world. No matter where I am—whether it’s Hong Kong, London, or Buenos Aires—I can walk into a McDonald’s and find you waiting for me.

The first bite transports me back to those Friday nights with my family, when the world felt simpler.

Thank you for being more than just a fast-food sandwich. Thank you for being a taste of home, a reminder of where I came from, and a delicious link to my past.

Fritos (1932)

Dear Charles Elmer Doolin,

Fritos were my mom’s favorite snack. She would buy impossibly huge bags for herself, the size that could feed a child for weeks. And there I was, a stealthy teenager, able to sneak in when Mom was busy, and steal some without her noticing.

With the fiber and crunch of the corn, I convinced myself that they were health food. A serving of "vegetable".

Thank you for creating a snack that not only satisfied my cravings but also allowed me to feel a little less guilty about mass vegetable oil consumption. A growing teenage needs calories!

Who knew the greatest snack food ever invented could come from just corn and salt.

Cracker Jack (1896)

Dear Inventor of Cracker Jack,

My grandmother, Margaret Donnelly, was a lovely woman born in Ashland, Wisconsin. I can still picture her handing me a box of Cracker Jack every time I visited. Ready to share stories with her grandkids. The sweet, crunchy popcorn was always a treat, but let’s be honest: it was the tiny toy that really got us excited!

Sure, I’d open up that tiny toy and say, “That’s it?” while my grandmother chuckled. It’s the thought that counts, right?

Thank you for creating a snack that not only satisfied our cravings but also brought different generations together.

The One That Got Away

Coca-Cola (1886)

You came into my life like a fizzy, caramel-colored whirlwind, full of promises and excitement. That first sip was always a revelation—cold, crisp, and bursting with a kind of zest that only you could deliver. You were the life of the party.

But then the magic faded. You left me with more than just memories of good times. You left me with cavities, dentist bills, and worries about sugar intake. My teeth, once strong and proud, now bear the scars of our tumultuous relationship.

I’ll admit, I knew what I was getting into. The warning signs were there—the sticky residue on my teeth, the way you clung to my molars like you never wanted to let go. But I ignored them, lured by your effervescent charm and your irresistible red can.

Our lives have led us in different directions, but I’ll always have a soft spot for you, Coca-Cola.