My father was a sheet metal worker earning a subsistence wage, and my mother stayed at home to take care of her five children. I listened with envy when my classmates gushed over where they spent their summer vacations. We lived in Daly City, just outside of San Francisco, and for us a vacation meant an all-day bus pass to visit the familiar landmarks of the City by the Bay.

When we were in elementary school my siblings and I received a candy bar in lieu of an allowance. Although we complained about not getting money, we were nonetheless grateful for the rare delicacy. I savored every scrumptious bite of that Hershey’s milk chocolate bar, Nestle Crunch milk chocolate and crisped rice candy bar or a Rocky Road chewy marshmallow confection.

Ironically, though I can now afford to buy a boatload of candy, due to my history of diabetes I rarely eat any. For my birthday, my sister Jackie usually sends me a package of my favorite candy bar, Rocky Road. As a child there were only two varieties of Rocky Road, the original milk chocolate, and the mint. But the packages my sister sends me include many varieties, the original milk chocolate version, mint, s’mores, and even dark chocolate with sea salt.

For a glorious moment I’m no longer a senior citizen worried about obesity or diabetes but a hungry child with a ravenous appetite, and in just a couple of days I consume every delectable Rocky Road candy bar.