To my six year old mind, it was a catastrophe of the highest order. Later in life I came to see it as the beginning of wisdom. Let me explain.
Every school day my mother would give me 10 whole cents—a lot of money to any young boy back in 1949—to buy an ice cream bar during recess. Sometimes it was vanilla covered with chocolate and nuts; other times it would be a 50-50 bar—part vanilla, part orange. Either way, it was the highlight of my first grade academic day!
One day the unexpected happened: they were out of ice cream bars. Instead, they offered popsicles, a treat unfamiliar to me. Undaunted, I selected a purple one—grape flavored and very tasty!
Before I could finish, the recess bell rang. Not wanting to waste this delicious treat, I returned to the classroom, lifted my desktop, and placed the partially eaten Popsicle inside; I would finish it the next day.
At day’s end, my mother asked her usual questions:
“How was school?”
“Good.”
“Did you buy an ice cream?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“They were out of them. They had popsicles instead; I had a grape one.”
“Was it good?”
“Yes, but I didn’t finish it. I put it in my desk—I’ll eat the rest tomorrow.”
And then my world came apart. With a look of concern and words I’ll never forget, my mother said, “Larry, popsicles melt.”
Oh.
OH, NO! The enormity of what I had done came in a blinding flash of understanding. Stunned, I stammered the first thing that came to mind: “I’m not going to school tomorrow!”
Firmly and gently mother said, yes, I would go to school but she would go with me. The next morning, with fear and trembling, mother at my side, I approached my desk. Lifting the desk top I saw the wooden Popsicle stick lying in a small purple puddle on top of my spelling book.
Mother helped clean up and after a few days this misadventure slipped into history. Through the years and experiences that followed—high school, mission, college, marriage and career—I would often think of that purple popsicle and remind myself that things aren’t always what they seem.
With maturity gained from hindsight and frequent toe-stubbing, I have learned the importance of discerning “things as they really are, and…as they really will be.” (Jacob 4:13, The Book of Mormon) In some strange, wonderful way the lesson of the purple Popsicle has found meaning in every stage of my life.
During my teens I learned that the most popular kids in school weren’t always helpful in maintaining the standards of behavior I had been taught at home and at church.
As a missionary I learned that poor people, with little of the world’s riches, were often the most humble and receptive to the Spirit of the Lord.
In college, I became aware that as attractive as many of the theories and philosophies of the world are, they cannot provide a true and perfect standard against which to measure life’s experiences nor give us a sure foundation upon which to make eternal decisions. Only the gospel of Jesus Christ can do that.
Similarly, while serving as an army chaplain, I was repeatedly reminded that the wicked ways of the world never bring happiness. Countless times I saw lives and relationships damaged or destroyed as individuals chose worldly pleasures over those things that are “virtuous, lovely or of good report or praiseworthy.” (13th Article of Faith)
As a husband, a father, and a grandfather my “Popsicle lessons” continue to bless me. I have learned that the “law of the harvest” is a true and eternal principle and that “whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap” (Gal. 6:7 KJV)—that it is giving and loving that guarantees us a sure bounty of peace and joy, not taking or using or abusing.
I am grateful for the early lessons of the purple Popsicle which taught me while yet a youth that things aren’t always what they seem.
