Hostess with the Mostess

When liquidation plans of Hostess were announced last week, I began to wax nostalgic.

Hostess made a slew of snack cakes but, in my opinion, perfected only one.

I grew up with Ding Dongs.

Every day, I had a ritual. I walked downtown after school to meet my father at the funeral home where he worked. Dad forked over some change, and I would high-tail it across the street for a Coke and my favorite treat.

Ding Dongs were my sanctuary and I worshipped often.

The delectable round cakes with the creamy white center came two in a package and used to cost 13 cents. When it was cold, the chocolate coating would crumble into pieces you had to scoop up with a wetted finger. Hot weather made the goodness all gooey.

In a box, Ding Dongs came individually wrapped in paper-thin aluminum foil I used to wad up to the size of a marble.

As an adult, you’re supposed to give up childish things. It took me longer than most.

Thanks, Hostess.

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