Cookies

I would never think to buy a cookie. In fact, if you asked me, I would say I don't particularly like cookies, but when offered one, I can't ever remember saying, "no.” I have come to the conclusion that it is not the cookie itself I like, but the fact that someone gave me the cookie. That is what makes me feel good. Why? I have fond memories connected to cookies. My mother and I would often make cookies—just she and I—though I was never good at spooning them out onto the baking sheets. Sometimes she make them herself and have them just coming out of the oven at the time I got home from school, so perhaps I have a connection with cookies and freedom?
A couple of cookie incidences have occurred this month that started me thinking about this. Two days after a particularly stressful meeting, I was alerted to the presence of a package in my mail box. Because I was not expecting anything important, I neglected to check my box on my way out that evening. Early the next morning, however, after a particularly bad nights’ sleep, I discovered the wonderful package in my mailbox—four homemade cookies! No note, no name attached—just these great cookies. It was the perfect way to start my day, and my students truly appreciated it, too, because my jokes were better (or at least more frequent), my demos were far more lively. Perhaps it was all explainable scientifically with blood sugar spikes and chocolate euphoria, but I prefer to think that the good mood was caused by the conjuring up of warm memories of better times. True to my conclusion, it was not the cookies I appreciated most—delicious though they were—but the kind, friendly gesture. It was not the first time that cookies had appeared, and I was finally able to confirm my suspicions of their origins; I wholeheartedly thank the baker.

It has occurred to me that I may not be alone in this reaction to cookies, but times are changing and may be leading to some variations on the theme. Making cookies is not a time consuming process, but the baking of cookies is. A mother I know still takes the time to make cookies with her children—something for which she should be commended, in my opinion—but with her very busy life, more cookies get made than baked. On more than one occasion this month, she has confessed to eating cookie dough! At the time I chalked this up to her having no chips in the house or no time to make popcorn, but, upon reflection, I believe that it might be the new time-pressured adaptation of an old mood-lifting technique. We all need someone in our lives to give us cookies when we need them. Let me challenge you to make cookies for a friend in need—or at least buy the homemade looking cookies from the store and repackage them! Let’s strive to create a world where no one has to eat cookie dough!

(Until next week, keep the cookies coming to keep the ravings positive.)