Oreos

January 3, 2010

I did it.  I opened the other box of Oreos.  I was tempted by a book which mentioned them.  Not only mentioned them, but the author went into great detail about how he and his brother would devour a whole bag of them when their dad would try to hide them in his office.  

My mind raced when I bit into the first chocolate cookie filled with creamy Oreo goodness.  The taste of a normal Oreo (not a double-stuf one like the first box had been) immediately brought back memories at Lake Chelan.  I don’t really remember eating Oreos when visiting Lake Chelan, which we did every summer as a kid.  I remember Koala juice, mac and cheese, licorice, and Fun Dips.  I don’t remember eating Oreos, but my tongue does!  We must have had them!

When my mom asked me what I’d like sent to me here in New Zealand I said Oreos.  We almost never had Oreos growing up.  I remember the one time I convinced my mom to buy some at Costco I ate them so fast that my mom said she’d never buy them again.  And really I can’t remember her ever buying them again!

Oreos are only an indulgence I allow myself from time to time.  Mostly because if I sit down to a box of Oreos they will be gone in a very short period of time.  So short that I’m too embarrassed to mention the exact time it takes.  

I wanted Oreos because they don’t sell them here in New Zealand.  At least I haven’t seen them in the stores.  Josh says that they sell them in small packs of six.  But even these I haven’t seen.  

New Zealand does have some great cookies, but there is nothing in the world like an Oreo.  My mom sent me two boxes.  The first box was the double-stuf kind.  These are my favorite and ever since I began my adulthood these are the kind I buy.  The second box was a regular Oreo.  I was surprised, but dug in anyway.  I was more surprised when I immediately thought about Lake Chelan.

I think I remember most summers at Lake Chelan in one whole memory.  None of the summers there were very different from each other.  We pretty much always did the same thing every year: pitched our tent in the same place, went with the same people every year, and had a set schedule for every day of the week.  

We all drove up on Sundays after church, pitched our tent and basically set up camp.  Every morning we woke up in hot tents (well, except for the year it rained all week) and took our floating mattresses down to the beach.  Along the way we’d pick up snacks at the snack shack.  We’d spend all day at the lake.  Then in late afternoon we might head back to the campsite to munch on some peaches or apricots that we picked up on our drive out.  Then I often took a nap covered in several sleeping bags in the hot sun.  Even now the thought of how warm and perfectly happy I was just makes me want to repeat every nap I ever had there!

Each night of the week had a special significance.  One night was the parents’ date night.  All the parents would go out to eat and the older kids would cook for us and look after the younger kids.  I remember my sister whipping up mac and cheese in my cousins’ motor home.

One night we all went to the Alpenhorn for greasy burgers, cold ice cream and a round of miniature golf.  We would go to the special movie nights put on by the state park.  These were not the big summer blockbusters, but a simple presentation on nature and that sort of thing.  On another night we had a huge fire and everyone would toast marshmallows.  We’d go into town with our cousins and get pizza on another night of the week.

Lake Chelan was such a wonderful place because it was the same every year and there was such tradition and repetition.  Tradition and repetition are important to kids.  It makes us feel safe.  It made me feel like life would always be like this.  Eventually things did change though.  The state park didn’t want big groups booking out the campground for a week and we had to move to a different state park.  Our family went to the new park but nothing was the same again, and eventually we just stopped going altogether.

Except now, when I bite into an Oreo cookie, my mind reminds me of all these memories and I can go back and relive them with every bite.  Even though I am so far away from home, Lake Chelan, and my childhood, I can remember. I can think over those times and enjoy them again.  I may never get them back, but now I know if I ever want to remember I can just buy a package of Oreos.  But I’ll try not to make a habit of it!  Or who knows how many packages I'll eat!