The blog entries that people like most is always surprising to me. For instance, I never expected to get much FEEDback (to make a bad pun) from the cookie blog I wrote before Christmas. But, boy, was I wrong! Not only did I get a number of emails, but I also got five batches of cookies! One batch came all the way from Ontario, if you can trust the postmark. In light of the response, many of my colleagues have suggested that I should write about toonies or perhaps the five dollar bill! I strongly suspect the result would be different.
Interestingly, all the batches of cookies showed up anonymously. When they started appearing in my mail box and the story got out, many people said, “Well, that is cool; you asked people to send you cookies, and they did.” The truly cool part is that I didn’t ask—didn’t even suggest!—that people send me cookies. I know that some came from within Olds College but I certainly have not confirmed the source of all the cookies. Regardless of the origin, I never received a bad cookie. (Is there such a thing?).
As each new batch was delivered, the comments in the coffee room grew more and more amusing. Rumors of another batch would start with the mail lady and often made their way to the coffee room before either the cookies or I did. When I did arrive, goodies in hand, and offered people a cookie—being sure to tell of their undetermined origins—the reactions were the most amusing part of the entire experience. Some would ask “Have you had one yet? How long ago? How are you feeling? You seem happy…really happy.” and so on. About 80% of the people in the coffee room would eat one or more cookies. A few people just flat out said “no,” and one or two people would take a cookie and politely put it in their pocket when they thought no one was looking.
I could never recommend eating something from a stranger (We all know what is in the food we buy at the store. Can you say melamine?), but ‘tis the season of trust and good will. To the best of my knowledge, there were no ill effects from the consumption of all those mystical cookies—with the exception of an expanding waist line. To those who sent the cookies, know that you brightened the lives of many with your simple act of confectionary kindness. Thanks to all of you, and don’t forget about me next year, ok?
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.
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!