I just cracked a package of Life Savers open in the middle, causing me to notice that the packaging has changed since I was a kid. It must have changed a long time ago but but it used to be there was a piece of string embedded into the top end of the package, and you pulled that to unravel the foil on top and reveal the first piece of candy. That piece of string is gone and I find there is really no distinction between which end is top and which is bottom. It would matter if you were a purist about these things and felt that the experience of consuming a package of 14 Life Savers was intended by its makers to be done in the order in which the pieces are packaged.

But with the distinction between top and bottom gone and with no helpful stringy thing to assist in unraveling the foil wrapper I found myself performing the relatively barbaric flourish of breaking the package apart at the middle, feeling at least one of the pieces buckle and break into pieces from the pressure of my hands. By my assessment this packaging is inferior to what I remember it being like years ago, though it is entirely possible I am combining and coagulating memories of other tube-shaped candy packages with a string-induced opening flourish.

I’ve never understood how such an obvious choking hazard has done so well, or why it is made so easily available to small children who might be more prone than others to gag on or swallow whole these donut-shaped hard candies.

I don’t remember being told this but a web search on matters concerning Life Savers reveal that I most likely did not come up with this notion on my own: As a kid I thought the hole was there for you to breath through should one of these things get lodged in your throat. Any time I see a Life Savers candy I imagine someone clinging to life, regretting that it had to end from choking on a piece of candy, but then transitioning to a satisfied feeling that they made the right candy-related decision. The discomfort of breathing for dear life through a candy hole was relieved by the knowledge the candy will melt away and breathing will return to normal as the candy naturally digests.

Today, as virtually always, I nearly inhaled one of these candies, raising in my throat and jaw that ominous swelling feeling of uniquely physical panic that comes when even the possibility arises of choking on something. I think it was part of the ritual for me to nearly choke on the second or third piece I ate from a package of Life Savers.

In my mind I just saw the faces and resigned facial expressions of all those who have choked and gagged on Life Savers over the decades, their ranks comprising a silent army of statistics shooed away by the makers of this product. Enjoy at your own risk, that could be the company’s tagline.

Life Savers were my mother’s favorite candy, or they seemed to be. We had them in the house all the time. In my mind they were like an edible version of Crayola crayons. I leveraged my stash of these candies to make myself POPULAR at school, because there was nothing about my fundamental personality or character that would make me interesting to other kids in the class. I built a reputation for being generous as hell with giving out candy to the others. That is something I forgot entirely about until just this moment, and it had nothing to do (consciously at least) with my decision to make this purchase. In addition to Life Savers I seem to remember supplying the schoolyard with Starburst Fruit Chews and probably other tart delights.

My favorites among the five flavors of today are the same as in youth: Cherry and Raspberry. Orange and Pineapple are passable but Watermelon is the one I sometimes discard. I was not paying attention as I  consumed this whole package of 14 candies but I wonder now if Watermelon is the one that only appears twice in the package where 5 flavors would of necessity be unevenly represented by only 14 pieces.

I never appreciated the packages with the Tropical flavored candies or the Pep O Mint, I think it was called. The name of the latter reminded me of Peppermint Patty, one of my lesser favorite characters from Peanuts.

(My favorite crayons were Periwinkle and Goldenrod, but only because I liked the names, not the colors.)

Well this was a spontaneous little essay, wasn’t it? To think what I could do if I had any direction.