I grew up in a very cavity conscience house. My mom and step-dad both had their own dental practices and were equally vigilant on the amount of sugar that went into my mouth and body. I always thought I found sneaky ways to satisfy my sugar fix, (buying candy from the ice cream man instead of a popsicle, hiding candy under my pillow at night), but my parents were on to me.
There was one place though where my supply seemed endless. At my grandparent's house I could indulge to my heart's content without having to hide the sweets I was enjoying. My grandpa called it "pogie bait". I'm not sure even to this day if I was the "pogie" being baited, or what a pogie was, but I never questioned the name. Hearing those words meant candy, candy and more candy! It didn't hurt that I was oldest grandchild by 4 years, giving me little competition for this fabulous treat.
The bait ranged depending on the season. Sometimes it was a box of chocolates, others it was every Jelly Belly flavor you could imagine.
Pogie bait wasn't my grandpa's only trick, though in my opinion it was his best. Through the years he's shared it with the other grand kids, and now even his great-grandson, my own son Jack. I feel privileged though to have been the first.
The memory of being his first "pogie" came rushing back on Monday with great emotion. We had a scare as my grandpa was taken to the Cleveland Clinic for a possible heart attack. After a myriad of health issues this past year, our worry increases each time a problem arises. This visit, every level of various monitored things seemed to be out of whack. For the first time, I was afraid we may lose this great man. Hearing my mom's voice shake and knowing tears were rolling down her cheek as she talked to me on Monday made my heart ache.
Thankfully after a few days in the hospital, he is doing much better and is ready to come home. All I can do is thank God. I was not ready to say goodbye to this great man. We have so much candy left to enjoy....