jianantonic | Memory Lane: Old Forest Road

When I was a little kid, I had an uncle I could always count on to slip me a $1 bill whenever I saw him. Uncle Arthur was my maternal grandfather's brother, I think, and he and his wife Mina would always visit my grandmother when I was staying with her in Lynchburg. This was around 1988, when I was 5, and when a dollar actually had some purchasing power. At least for a 5-year-old.

There wasn't ever a whole lot to do at Gramma's house. She only had 4 channels on her TV, and they were all the news. So I filled my time by walking around her neighborhood a lot. I was allowed to walk the 1/2-mile or so to the stores at the end of her street. I would spend my dollars one of two ways: the craft store had embroidery thread at 5/$1. If they'd invented any new colors since the last time I was there, I would snatch them up for my one-child friendship bracelet factory. It never occured to me that such stores might also exist in Charlottesville -- for me, visits to Gramma's were my opportunity to supply my business. The other option, if I was well-stocked in thread, was to take my buck to the Kroger next door where I could get donuts at 4/$1.

One day, Uncle Arthur gifted me a fiver instead of the usual Washington. The craft store had just hiked the price of my embroidery thread to 4/$1 instead of 5/$1, so as a form of protest, I took my business elsewhere. I spent all five of those dollars on donuts. Glazed, with chocolate frosting. And sprinkles. And I ate all 20 of those delicious treats in one afternoon.

My family has always embraced the philosophy of letting kids make mistakes and then learn from them, rather than preventative intervention.

That night, I broke out in hives. Gramma said it was from all the donuts. I was horrified to realize that I was allergic to my favorite food. I cried all night, partially because the itching was miserable, but mostly because I thought I'd never be able to eat another donut in my life.

And for years, I didn't. Eventually, after years of deprivation, I braved the risks for the sweet, sweet reward of processed sugary delight. And lo, the hives did not come! I was thrilled to realize that I was not allergic to donuts. Huzzah! Turns out, I was just allergic to twenty donuts.