Nelson Clyde: Is It Just Me? The great Snickers caper, or, when life takes your Snickers

Published 11:54 pm Saturday, July 25, 2015

Furiously rummaging through my gym bag, I began to panic. Where is my Snickers bar? It was a road trip on one of those yellow school buses, but my memory falters as to which one.

On each road trip my mom would put a Snickers in my bag for a snack. She was that kind of mom. The pattern must have become evident to some of my teammates on the Robert E. Lee basketball squad. It was my senior year, spring 1982. If you think about it, Snickers was probably the original energy/protein bar. It was way ahead of its time.

I turned to Clay Stanley and wondered what could have happened to my snack. He probably suggested it might have been hijacked.

My frustration turned to indignation. “OK, who took my Snickers, I pronounced, as the yellow dog bounded down the highway.”

Silence was followed shortly by whispering and chuckling, which then turned into gleeful laughter. The culprit was finally howling with delight and laughter. It was Kennis “Boo” Bell.

My tummy was rumbling and I was not happy. My sentiments were expressed and an air of disdain filled my aura for at least 30 minutes. It was hard to stay angry at Kennis. He was a clever, funny kid. He probably told me I didn’t need the candy bar since he was skinnier and a member of the starting five. He simply would have needed it more than me.

When we returned home, I filled my parents in on the adventure, still feeling a bit irritated. My dad just listened quietly and chuckled. My mom did what moms do, she empathized with my plight, even over a silly Snickers bar. She was that kind of mom.

When the next road trip came around my dad stopped me on the way out and handed me an entire box of Snickers bars. He must have gone down to George Wholesale and got it from his old buddy J.J. “Snooky” Saleh.

“This is great” I said and started out the door thinking my supply was complete for a good while. My dad held me up on the way out and said, “When you get on the bus go ahead and pass those out to every member of the team,” he said. He was that kind of dad.

It turned into a road trip tradition. Every game dad sent me packing with an entire box of Snickers bars. Everyone was really glad to see me board the bus and my bar never got hijacked again.

The moral of the story? When life takes your Snickers, go buy some more.