Despite a 24 hour snowfall and the incumbent shoveling, this was actually a pretty good week. The Winter Olympics are here, I got to spoil everyone for Valentine's Day, and the chair of my dreams showed up on my doorstep. As you may know, I am constantly on the quest for the ultimate soccer chair. It's not enough that it be portable, it has to have cup holders, arms, places to store my papers and magazines, even possess a "roof" to protect from the sun and rain. But several months ago I came across a chair in a catalog that was perfect for the type of soccer we play here in Wisconsin: Refrigerator Soccer. This chair had portability, an attached flap with three pockets, a fold-out hard tray with a huge cup holder, and most amazingly of all, a heated seat! There was a battery that you charged, placed in a small pocket and attached to wires in the seat that provided a gentle warming. You could also choose between high and low temperatures. It had both a home charger and a car charger so you could recharge it during tournaments.
Imagine my delight when the manufacturer sent me one to try out. It arrived this past week and has been set up in my family room where various people have been testing it. Everyone agrees it's ideal for the spring/fall soccer season and those winter practices outdoors. Even the dogs approve, curling up in the gentle warmth of the chair and abandoning their usual perch on the back of the couch where the sun warms them. I love the tray that extends because I usually have several items I need to set out: keys, cell phone, tournament program, sons' jewelry that has to be removed before play, and a drink. The sturdy yet light weight aluminum frame folds up like a flat sandwich board with handles on the arms making it very portable. It has a nice wide seat and sits firmly off the ground so I can hop in and out much easier than the sunken sling back chairs of yore. The Tempachair is manufactured by Prairie Sales, LLC (www.tempachair.com
). Check it out – especially those of you who watch soccer AND ice fish! And thank you to Prairie Sales for making my quest for the perfect chair complete.
This week I also sent out Valentine's Day packages filled with the most abominable junk imaginable, and I know with all the kids I'll be a hero and with all the parents I'll be a scoundrel. But Valentine's Day is the holiday I spoil youngsters with Nerds, candy necklaces, satellite wafers, pixy sticks, candy hearts, wax bottles, and other sweets whose ingredient lists simply read: sugar and artificial flavors and colors. Each product's appearance may change, but they're all derivatives of the same formula. These candies for all their agelessness end up being an exotic treat for many youngsters. So instead of the usual carrot sticks, granola bars, and orange slices that make up after-practice or after-game snacks, once a year I'll pull out the candy jar for a sugar indulgence like no other. I also don't have to worry about peanut, egg, gluten, and milk allergies because the factories which fabricate these goodies have never been within miles of anything considered part of the food pyramid.
These treats provide a nostalgic trip back to when I was seven or eight years old. My brothers and I used to walk or ride our bikes to the Rexall Drug Store at the bottom of our hill for a candy run. Each of us would have up to a quarter in our pockets to spend in the days when candy bars were a nickel and penny candy really meant a penny. We'd buy the most horrific stuff certain to rot our teeth, destroy major internal organs, and dim the brain. We needed the sugar high just to get back up our hill, a mile of switchbacks along a wooded and canyoned asphalt ribbon. Our dad, the dentist, further complicated the situation, so naturally we had to keep our stash a secret. But it was bliss on a spring day to sit outside in the tire swing and spin around while cracking my teeth on Atomic Fireballs.
There's a party store in our town that sells these forbidden delicacies along with party favors like plastic yo-yos, army men, ponies, and other useless "not recommended for children under three" toys. The treats rest colorfully in bins in the back of the store, and three to six bikes can be seen daily leaned on the brick wall, their owners inside perusing the candy bins. Just like I did as a kid, the boys and girls crowd around making high level financial decisions based on how much money they have, the weight of the candy, how long it lasts, and if they can share any items. In one trip they have learned budgeting skills, cost versus benefit analysis, and cooperative purchasing tactics. I relate these stories because in this day of internet threats, Amber alerts, food recalls, and homeland security, it's good to know that some of the simpler bucolic albeit unhealthy things in life haven't changed.
Now the government wants to ruin even this experience. It's not enough to educate us about the effects of sugar on the diets and dental health of our children. Common sense tells us that candy doesn't grow on trees, so it's not likely to be healthy for us. But we recognize that we supplemented our own healthy lifestyle with an occasional sugar binge and lived to tell about it. This new government study goes further in heaping on the guilt. It suggests that children who have a sweet tooth are more likely to have alcohol and drug abuse problems than children who don't. So now when I bring a jar full of artificially colored sugar shapes to the soccer field, I'm actually contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Years later if one of those tiny soccer players ends up in rehab, she can point to that watershed moment in her life when Mrs. Boyd leaned over and whispered, "take as many as you like." At least I will now do so from my heated chair with the jar set conveniently on the pull up tray.