White Chocolate Corn Pops, the perfect quick and easy gift for those co-workers or neighbors. White chocolate corn pops are made with corn pops (not the cereal) that you find this time of year at the grocery store. I find them in the section with the chips!
I also sprinkled some cinnamon sugar on my white chocolate corn pops, for added flavor and color. I had white chocolate corn pops the other day when I was at the hospital with my father-in-law. They were having a boutique and so I went down to check it out.
White chocolate corn pops are perfect for the holidays and this recipe works up so fast that you can have it ready in less than 1 hour. They had some cute things at the boutique, but I think that the white chocolate corn pops was my favorite thing there. The holidays are just around the corner and I thought that you all might enjoy making some.
Another thing that I like is some of the fun little stories that are out there and so I wanted to share the following story. I am not sure where it came from, because I received it from my friend.
Here is this week’s Christmas story:
In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone. The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two.
Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared. Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds. He did manage to leave $15.00 a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either. If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it.
I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and put on my best homemade dress. I loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job. The seven of us went to every factory, store, and restaurant in our small town. No luck. The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything . I had to have a job. Still no luck, The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel Drive-In that had been converted into a truck stop.
It was called “The Big Wheel”. An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all my kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until 7 in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start that night.
I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.
That night when the little ones and I knelt to pray, we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at “The Big Wheel.”
When I got home in the mornings, I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money, fully half of what I averaged every night.
As the weeks went by, heating bills added another strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again, every morning before I could go home.
One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New Tires!! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires.
Had angels taken up a residence in Indiana? I wondered. I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires.
I was now working six nights instead of five, and it still wasn’t enough. Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry, too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair.
On Christmas Eve, the usual customers were drinking coffee in “The Big Wheel”. These were the truckers: Les, Frank and Jim and a State Trooper named Joe. A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickles in the pinball machine.
The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up. When it was time for me to go home, I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement and place them under the tree. (We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road, down by the dump) It was still dark and I couldn’t see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadow in the car, or was that just a trick of the night? Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what. When I reached the car, I peered warily into one of the side windows.
Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver side door, scrambled inside and got on my knees in the front facing the back seat. Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10. I looked inside another box and it was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes. There was candy, nuts, bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O, cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll.
As I drove back through the empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.
Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at “The Big Wheel Truck Stop”.
I hope that you enjoy this wonderful story and maybe it will give us all the incentive to reach out to those less fortunate than we are. If nothing else, try making them some white chocolate corn pops.