Lynn's Comments: When I was a kid, my mother was the staunch churchgoer. Dad, my brother and I could hardly stay awake during the services. In order to keep us from fooling around in our seats, Dad would bring big, round, white peppermints, which came in a squeaky plastic wrapper. Try as he might, he could not keep the peppermints a secret; everyone from the folks in the rows around us to the minister himself could hear the telltale sound of the wrapper. Mom would be furious. Dad would be shrugging with feigned embarrassment, and we, with a bulge in our cheek, would simply smile. To this day, when I hear the squeak of a particular kind of plastic wrapper, I am rocketed back in time to the hard pews, the cedar smell, and the sleep-inducing drone of a sermon at St. John's Anglican Church. Thanks, Dad, for the peppermints!
