My father was a  wounded soldier in the Second World War. For many years of my childhood, he was in the hospital having one operation after another.  There were five kids in my family. My mother worked as a waitress but it didn’t pay the bills and we went on welfare.

Once a month we  lined up outside of St. Mary’s Catholic Church to get our food box.  It was stuffed with yummy food like dried milk, lard, spam, margarine, dried eggs, flour, jelly, cocoa, chinese noodles and most importantly, peanut butter.

I am not talking about Jif or Skippy.  I am not referring to creamy, crunchy, no/low sodium,  no hydrogenated fats peanut butter.  I am not even in the same room as an organic nut butter.  What I am talking about is  a USDA, property of the United States government, not for individual resale, ten pound can of peanut butter!  It came packaged with a white label and large black letters reading PEANUT BUTTER!  Like DANGER, EXPLOSIVES!  Once opened, the peanut oil  lay on top of the peanut butter like an oil slick.  No matter how long you stirred, the oil would not go back into the butter.  The peanut butter at the bottom of the can was so dry we had to jackhammer it out.  But my mother made everything better.  How?  She was an artist.

She made peanut butter soup long before it was gourmet.  She made peanut butter cookies.  She took the driest peanut butter, shaped it into balls, rolled it in confectioner’s sugar and melted chocolate and then put the chinese noodles over that.  We called those peanut butter bombs.  My favorite food was much simpler than those however; peanut butter and jelly sandwiched between two slices of Wonder Bread.  Now that you know what a pivotal substance peanut butter was in my childhood, it shouldn’t surprise you to know that it was the subject of my first creative endeavor.

I couldn’t read in first grade.  I still couldn’t read in second grade.  I was in third grade when I had to go to “remedial reading.”  I loved it!  Mrs. Marshall taught me phonics, consonants, vowels, syllables.  In just a few months, Mrs. Marshall had me reading!  Watch out Dick, Jane is coming after you!  Once I knew how to read, I learned how to write!  Once I knew how to do that, it was all I wanted to do. i was now eight and I decided i had better get started on my destiny.   One warm day I sharpened a pencil to such a point I could have taken out the Cyclop’s eye.  I got a fresh piece of white paper and went out onto the porch to write my first masterpiece, a play.

Knowing this document would someday be valuable, I wrote my full name;  Regina Marie Carpenter. I wrote the title of my masterpiece “Peanut Butter and Jelly.”  Finally, the characters.  Peanut butter.  Jelly.

I will now recreate it for you.  Hold one hand up.  This is peanut butter.  The other hand is jelly.  Move each hand appropriately when it’s their turn.

Peanut Butter:  Hi Jelly.  How are you?

Jelly:  Good.  How are you?

PB:  Good.  Want to get together some time?

Jelly:  Sure.  How about now?

PB: Sure.

(splat hands together)

Narrator: And peanut butter and jelly lived happily ever after.

THE END