Growing Up: The Redi-Whip Days

You know Redi-Whip, or something like it...cool, creamy whipped cream in a spray can. There's nothing quite like the splurt of a fresh can, nozzle in your mouth, sweet sensation filling your throat, right from the can...

Then somebody figured out there was more than one way to enjoy the miracle of the can...hold it upright,  hit the nozzle and take a deep breath. What a waste of fluorocarbons. No satisfying splurt, no whipped cream...I say, if you want gas, eat beans.

In my son's house, a can of spray whipped cream sits on the refrigerator shelf right next to the spray cheese (not as much of an abomination as I expected). Every so often, I hear the door of the Frigidaire stealthily opening, a metallic rattle...I hold my breath, but there is no pfffft....there is a splurt, a splush, an mmmmmm. All is well, the children recognize the value of Redi-Whip.

Oh, yes, it is useful on a sundae, delicious on a slice of pumpkin pie, heavenly on a mug of hot cocoa (and please sample spray cheese on a Town House), but the high one gets from this simple pleasure is best when slurped straight.

That's the point, I guess.

When we are not necessarily young, but searching for something to give us a pleasant high, we sometimes turn to the artificial zing of drink or drugs (in my case caffeine), aerosols or pills or whatever else we can find.  It lasts awhile but we come crashing down, and it takes more and more of the attention, the praise, the substance, the money to achieve the result we want.

Finally there comes a day when we realize that what we needed all along was the sweet, simple things.

Red-Whip fits the profile.