Chewing Gum: A Habit Filled With Memories

My earliest memories of gum are from my prekindergarten days when there was no such invention as sugarless gum and no reason to think about what the sugar could do to my teeth. Perhaps the sugar eventually resulted in my mouth full of caps, crowns, root canals, and even an implant. The only gum-related warning reminded me not to swallow the sweet, sticky conglomeration. My mother emphasized: "It will stay in your stomach and everything you eat will stick to it, so be careful." Actually, I received the same warning about my fingernail-biting habit. I was a visual child, so I imagined pink chunks of gum with protruding chewed fingernails.

While my father’s coffee-teaching lessons provided a lifetime of joy, allowing me to chew gum until it became a habit has helped me throughout my life in different ways. Of course, my grandmother reminded me not to "chew like a cow with its cud," so I hid my chewing whenever possible. The repetitive motion helped calm my nerves, as I could no longer bite my nails. I chewed when I studied for a test and when I took the test. I chewed while reading, while watching television, and while doing almost everything. When I went out on a date, I learned to place the chewy substance on the inside of my cheek. When I discovered that I was a fat 12-year-old little girl, gum became a tool in my weight loss. Instead of eating, I chewed. Eventually, I skipped meals, and Trident sugar-free became my companion on my starvation journey.

I could not walk by a gumball machine (actually, I still can't) without taking out coins. One of my grandest gum memories is the gift surprise my mother gave me. She came home with a brown lunch bag filled to the brim with brightly colored one-inch-diameter gumballs. She filled the gumball machine with dimes and, in turn, filled up the bag with yellow, red, green, orange, white, and blue gumballs. I was always grateful for this gift and the memory. I knew she was thinking of me as she cranked the handle on the machine. I savored those gumballs and chewed every last one of them, possibly resulting in cavities, but the holes in my teeth were worth this gift.

The author and her beloved bubblegum.

Source: bjaffe/blogger

We were a gum-chewing family. Mom loved gum, but because she had upper and lower dentures, she only managed to chew denture gum. When I had run out of mine, I desperately chewed hers, but it was just too slimy for me—no stick-to-the-teeth quality. When Mom stopped smoking cigarettes, she chewed Nicorette tobacco gum to help with cessation. She chewed that gum for years, which was not the protocol, but better than smelling her cigarette smoke throughout the house.

Over the years, each of my father’s cars had a special little compartment under the radio where he stored his "car gum." It was always either the Wrigley's green-wrapped Spearmint or white-wrapped Peppermint or yellow Juicy Fruit, all with sugar. His gum choices were joyful, upbeat, and sweet, like he was. My father’s only warning entailed: "You can have a piece if you chew it for a while, but if you are just going to chew it for a few minutes and spit it out, then don't take one." As a result of his mandate, today I am an Olympic gum chewer, going for the distance. The piece I place in my mouth at the beginning of a two-hour movie remains there for the credits, no matter the lost taste.

I also was blessed with gum paraphernalia. One Christmas, I was gifted a giant gumball machine, which I placed in my bedroom. It was quite costly to fill it up, so I chewed any of the proceeds anyway. I had a special metal gum holder in the '70s, which held a five-pack of gum. Recently, I regretted ever getting rid of it, so I went onto eBay looking to purchase the memories. Yes, it was there, but I couldn't justify the exorbitant cost after having discarded mine so long ago despite the delicious memories.

CVS and Rite Aid are happy stores for me, for in front of the register is the motherload of gum...all flavors, all types of sizes, sugars, and non-sugars. I have enjoyed the little sack of Gold Mine gum (tiny gum pieces that look like gold); big lollipops filled with gum on the inside after I lick the hard candy on the outside (delayed gratification); a six-pack of gumballs (always my favorite); Bubblicious (real bubblegum); Trident layered fruit gum (my nephew Sean's recommendation and now one of my favorite non-sugar gums). The choices are endless, and my joy is quite intense as I scan the rows. Even today, my daughter-in-law commented: “I think you are the only Nana that chews bubblegum.” What a compliment!

A gum-chewing Nana.

Source: bjaffe/blogger

Today, I still carry gum with me wherever I go. My purse and often my pockets carry the chewy stuff. My desk drawer holds various types of gum; my ceramic angel on my desk supports sugarless gum. A bowl in my kitchen pantry is filled with some of the above-mentioned Rite Aid gum...all sugarless these days, but fruit, mint, and bubble, depending upon my mood. Gum chewing relaxes me and envelops me within my past. Yes, it's a habit, one that I have had for over 60 years. As long as I can chew, gum will be with me.