I spent a few years of my childhood drinking the Kool-Aid, no really, I actually mean ingesting a delicious beverage made from a bag of colorful powder with an anthropomorphic pitcher on the front. This is not some self-reflective post trying to sort out how my formative years shaped me into the person today, I really just want to talk about drinking a very refreshing and diabetic coma-inducing beverage. I have always liked reading packages - shampoo labels, cereal boxes and Kool-Aid was no exception to this rule. I remember looking over a packet of my favorite flavor, Punch, on a warm summer day, and suddenly coming to the realization that if I started saving the little squares with Kool-Aid Man’s face on them I could start collecting points, and getting some really cool stuff!

So the drinking commenced. My sister, mom, dad and I must have consumed hundreds, maybe thousands, of glasses of the Kool-Aid Man’s tonic in order to save enough points to get a toy we really wanted. Heck, for all I know my mom could have been just buying packets to cut the points off, I was too young and buzzed up on sugar to care. After pouring over our choices in the Wacky Warehouse catalog, passing over the plastic cup sets, t-shirts, beach balls and snap bracelets, we finally found something we could both use - walkie talkies! The order was placed, and since we are talking about the pre-internet ages, my mom had to barbarically fill out an order form by hand, make sure to include our multitude of Kool-Aid points and hope to God that the special delivery did not get lost in the mail.

The Kool-Aid fairy did not disappoint, our walkie talkies arrived and were as wonderful as we had hoped. Not only did they have stickers on the talk button featuring a picture of the rotund Kool-Aid man himself, they had a handy guide to morse code just in case we were in situations where we could not openly converse. Of course they did not work if you were further than about 20 feet apart, nor would they withstand impacts greater than being dropped from knee height due to their shotty Chinese craftmanship, but that was not the point. We had worked really hard, saved our points and pushed through hyperglycemia to get these things. We could have been tempted to frivolously waste our points on a plastic Kool-Aid holder or beach towel, but no, we stuck in there and saw it through to the end.

Now that summer is coming, I will be getting back into the Kool-Aid season. I just love the way the stuff tastes, smells, looks and I have finally perfected the art of carefully mixing the colored grit as to not spill any of the contents. More importantly, what human does not smile when they see a picture of the Kool-Aid man? He is the kind of dude that will blast through walls if he senses a child is thirsty, welcoming their cheers with a hearty “Oh Yeah”! He is the first, and only, drink pitcher I know if that can breakdance and play baseball, all while being attentive to the dehydration needs of the community.

While you, Mr. Kool Aid, may have suffered a few setbacks in the past, like the introduction of “mystery flavors” and fanny packs bearing your likeness, you have managed to persevere and bring refreshment to an all new generation of thirsty youth. I would have thought that all that sugar constantly pumping through your veins would finally be starting to take its toll, but the last time I saw you I was taken aback by your sinewy biceps and slightly trimmer physique. This worried me a little considering the new skeletor trend currently taking place in Hollywood, but I am sure it is just a result of you cutting back on your serving sizes a bit. You are perfect the way you are.

March 30th, 2008 | Nostalgia, Friendly Encounters