Ode to the Pixy Stix

Sugar stick
So sweet to eat
Consume me

Yes, I realize that is a Haiku and not an ode, but in researching how to write an ode, I was presented with more of a task than I was willing to tackle.

There is a red Pixy Stix sitting on the counter in our kitchen. It has been there, uneaten, for the better part of a week. Upon seeing it this morning, I realized that despite being one of my favorite candy creations, the Pixy Stix is a dish that cannot be eaten on a whim, but must rather be savored in a moment all its own. While that seems vague yet poetic, what I really mean is that a Pixy Stix is not something that can be eaten at any time, in any mood. There seems to be perfect times in life when their consumption and the ensuing high are most desirable and eating one at any other time would just be a waste.

While the Pixy Stix was the muse for today’s blog, it is not what I truly desire to write about. Perhaps a better title would have been ‘Loss of a Friend’ or ‘Ode to the Tart n Tiny.’ Those tiny, pill shaped candies were truly my favorite. I fondly recall walking around summer camp, a bag full of the sugary sweets in my hand, a cheek full of the same, and a straw in my hand. In their original, uncoated barrel shape, they could be enjoyed for a moment, then shot over amazing distances with a simple blow through a straw. In the latter days of my youth, the Tart n Tiny was given a makeover, it’s chalky substance was given a candy coating, changing its shape from a barrel to more of a ball. This new form was just as delicious, if not more so, but the salivary erosion patterns were different, uneven, and the days of shooting them through straws was gone. Yet they remained for my enjoyment and I would always look forward to a trip to Galena, IL, where I knew I could find them in bulk.

And then they were gone. Mr. Andthechocolatefactory and his board of advisors had discontinued the tiny treat in lieu of other, more shapely creations. Now in their place, I find tiny baby binky shaped candies of similar consistency and taste, but filled with much less enjoyment.

It has been years since my favorite candy has gone the way of the apothecary bird (a distant relative of the dodo? or just some nonsense I made up?). I expect that by now, it would even be difficult to find some lonely stash for sale on the internet, though I trust that any such cache would have survived the savages of time, being unrobed of their tiny goodness. And I am left to mourn my loss, like the passing of a good friend.

Sharp and sweet
No solace for my sorrow
Long gone