Bubble Gum Explosions by Noreen O’Brien

Bubble gum—Bazooka Bubble Gum. The hours and hours of practice put into blowing giant, head-sized bubbles; the gum would be long past the point of being pink, much less containing flavor.

Kathy, Mary, Louise and I, sitting out on the front stoop, usually mine or Kathy’s, chewing, snapping—disgusting noises, really—poking our individual tongues through our individually chewed gum, blowing into the gum, rather than through an open mouth. Sometimes the bubble would pop early on, small, worthless; but sometimes, I swear it took long minutes of carefully calculated huffs and puffs around our tongues and into that gum. Bigger, bigger, bigger, then POP!, a bubble big enough to cover the entire front of our head, across nose, eyes, forehead and into our hair, ultimately exploding into a mass of sticky mess and guffaws of silly giggling and laughter.

Today, I don’t chew bubble gum, much less blow bubbles. However, I have a tendency to dress in monochrome colors, and then find seek out one accessory to make the drabness “pop,” as it were. One of my favorite color themes is gray, all gray slacks, sweater, even outer coat, then I don my bubblegum pink scarf to help the classic gray color stand out. That scarf is one of my favorite belongings, which I’ve worn for many years, and it never fails to bring me back to my bubble gum chewing, bubble-popping days of childhood with my best buds.

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