My Father’s Sweet Tooth

In honor of Father’s Day, June 15th, and National Sweet Tooth Day, June 9th, I thought it appropriate to write about my father’s sweet tooth. He is 93 years old, G-d bless him, and it is still prodigious.

In honor of Father’s Day, June 15th, and National Sweet Tooth Day, June 9th, I thought it appropriate to write about my father’s sweet tooth. He is 93 years old, G-d bless him, and it is still prodigious. His favorite sweet is chocolate. He loves chocolate ice cream and has had a cup every night before bed for as long as I can remember. But the Holy Grail for him was always Hershey Bars. In every desk in every office he ever worked in, there was always a designated Hershey Bar drawer. But nothing beats the World War II story.
My father had been a sickly child and as a young adult weighed about the same 125 pounds he weighs today. He was drafted out of law school, and the Army in its infinite wisdom promptly put him in the medics. Now, it seems there was a rule that the male officers were not allowed to sneak the female nurses into their quarters at night. But – ahem – they did, and bribed the hapless draftees to look the other way. So in keeping with the-way-things-were-done, my father’s commanding officer brought him a case of cigarettes as an offering.
“Thank you, sir, but I don’t smoke,” my father said.
So the officer brought him a couple of bottles of whiskey. “Thank you, sir, but I don’t drink,” my father said.
The exasperated officer exclaimed, “You must do something! What do you like?”
“Well,” my father said, “I really like chocolate.”
And that was how my father came to have a steady supply of Hershey Bars for the entire four years of his service in the Armed Forces of the United States of America.

In honor of Father’s Day, June 15th, and National Sweet Tooth Day, June 9th, I thought it appropriate to write about my father’s sweet tooth. He is 93 years old, G-d bless him, and it is still prodigious. His favorite sweet is chocolate. He loves chocolate ice cream and has had a cup every night before bed for as long as I can remember. But the Holy Grail for him was always Hershey Bars. In every desk in every office he ever worked in, there was always a designated Hershey Bar drawer. But nothing beats the World War II story.
My father had been a sickly child and as a young adult weighed about the same 125 pounds he weighs today. He was drafted out of law school, and the Army in its infinite wisdom promptly put him in the medics. Now, it seems there was a rule that the male officers were not allowed to sneak the female nurses into their quarters at night. But – ahem – they did, and bribed the hapless draftees to look the other way. So in keeping with the-way-things-were-done, my father’s commanding officer brought him a case of cigarettes as an offering.
“Thank you, sir, but I don’t smoke,” my father said.
So the officer brought him a couple of bottles of whiskey. “Thank you, sir, but I don’t drink,” my father said.
The exasperated officer exclaimed, “You must do something! What do you like?”
“Well,” my father said, “I really like chocolate.”
And that was how my father came to have a steady supply of Hershey Bars for the entire four years of his service in the Armed Forces of the United States of America.