From the time I was a small child, my father made what he called "party mix." The recipe and the process for bringing it into reality evolved through the years. Dad learned that a brown paper grocery bag was the perfect container in which to mix the varieties of Chex the peanuts, pretzels and, sometimes, Cheez-its with all the precision of a Medieval alchemist. He developed a sauce shaker, a Peter Pan peanut butter jar with holes punched in the top, with which to gently apply the melted butter, Worcestershire sauce, salt, onion powder and garlic to the mixture without over-saturating any part of it. Dad liked Cheerios in his party mix so, despite the negative comments from some consumers, that cereal was included in the holy recipe. He had a collection of tins in which he put the treasured treat when it came out of the oven. I believe he hid a tin or two away from the rest of us to ensure he would get at least a taste of the fruits of his labor.
Emotions well up in me as I make my own batch again this year. I feel a tinge of sadness and miss my dad as I replicate his recipe if not his results. But more than sadness, I feel closeness to my father as I bask in good memories and carry on some semblance of his tradition.
I don't think my father made his family famous party mix in order to create memories in his son's heart. He simply wanted to share something delicious with his family. But I've learned that many of the memories that bring our loved ones to life in our hearts are of small things and everyday events that recreate the aroma of their character and the taste of their joy.
May good memories bring someone you've loved to life this Christmas.
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