Good Old Days: Fudge

By Mildred Olson

He was fun-loving, kind, and unbelievably patient. He had to be. He was the only male in a family of five females: four sisters and his mother.

When his father died, he found himself with the responsibility of the farm, a large herd of cattle, sheep, several horses, and all the tasks in the 1920s. When he discovered one of the horses had a cut on its leg, he contacted his friend, whom he called a horse doc, and was given a bottle of horse liniment. He had to apply it several times a day, so he put it in the kitchen cabinet, keeping it easy to get to.

As a break from farming, he loved to make fudge, and, in the evening, decided it was a good way to relax. He made it so often he felt he could make a batch with his eyes closed.

Perhaps that is what he was doing the night he poured a teaspoon of horse liniment in it instead of vanilla. The bottles looked alike and were sitting side by side. He poured the fudge into the cooling pans and, as soon as it was cool, he cut himself a large piece. One bite and he recognized its strange, weird taste. It was then he knew what he had done. He warned the family not to eat it and put it outside on a small table under the apple tree.

The next morning, he was shocked to see four young neighbor children stuffing their mouths with the fudge, unaware they were being watched until they heard the door being opened. In seconds, they were gone.

He later learned the children, surprisingly, did not get sick, He never reported the 'theft' to their parents. He moved the bottle of liniment to the barn and never made fudge again.

Considering everything, he figured that was one of his good old days.