I bring you part two of my Dr. Pepper Peeps saga one week late, because I couldn’t not write about our lunar astronauts’ recent adventure.
The Peeps story began not long before Easter, when I surprised my Colorado grandkids with two ten-packs of the red marshmallow chicks. Josephine was thrilled that Oliver didn’t like them, meaning she could have them all to herself. But the reality is I never saw her eat but one Peep, and that one on the day I arrived. When I departed for home a week later, 18 Peeps remained in their packaging.
Both children swore up and down that Dr. Pepper is their favorite soft drink. On the rare occasion they go out for a meal and are allowed to order a drink, that’s what they always choose. To prove the point, we had lunch at a Smashburger in Colorado Springs after visiting the U.S. Olympic & Paralympic Museum. (My burger was outstanding and made me wish we had the chain in Cookeville. The museum was fun, too.) Both kids ordered Dr. Pepper and drank every drop with gusto, declaring its taste far superior to Dr. Pepper Peeps.
Which, of course, inspired me to share with them some Dr. Pepper memories from my own childhood. I told them that Dr. Pepper was invented in 1885 (a year earlier than Coca-Cola) in Texas. I sang them the 1960s jingle that goes “At ten, two and four you’ll always want more, more, more” and the even-better “Be a Pepper” song from the 1970s ads.
But the best childhood memories starred my grandmother. Whenever my family traveled to Little Rock in the hot, hot summers for a visit, Grandmother always had an assorted six-pack of “soady-pops” waiting for my brother Rusty and me. She used the cardboard carton that held them to prop open the swinging door between her hot, hot little kitchen and the hall that led to the bedrooms.
In the carton were six tall returnable glass bottles: one real Coca-Cola—made in those days with real cane sugar instead of corn syrup–one 7-Up, one Orange Crush, one NuGrape, one Barq’s root beer, and–you guessed it!—one Dr. Pepper.
Before bedtime, Rusty and I each picked the soady-pop we wanted to drink the next day. Grandmother would put them in the ice box, which was actually an electric refrigerator though I never heard her call it that, to chill. I don’t remember our ever fussing over who got which drink, perhaps because Rusty was and is extraordinarily easy to get along with, but mostly because we were just thrilled to pieces to be allowed sweet fizzy drinks for three days in a row.
And here’s a confession. I NEVER picked the Dr. Pepper. I didn’t like it. I still don’t. To me, Dr. Pepper tastes medicinal, perhaps because of its name. The Peeps do, too.
So…last but not least in wrapping up this tale of my visit to Denver is to report that my under-the-airplane-seat backpack that “flew free” was sufficient for my needs but only because I keep a pair of walking shoes and all my toiletries at Meg’s house. Also, she has a washer and drier.
And, on the flight to Colorado, I did finish one of the books I took with me. It was “The Long Walk,” a dystopian novel that’s one of Stephen King’s earliest works and definitely high on the list of the most depressing novels I’ve ever read. The other—“Simon the Fiddler” by Paulette Jiles—I began reading on the flight home but have not yet completed. But I’m far enough into it to know that it’s an absolute delight.
As for the Dr. Pepper Peeps, daughter Meg reports that they remain, untouched, in a dark corner of her kitchen counter. I suggested she throw them away, though I’m certain they won’t reach their expiration date for several months.
Or maybe ever.
(April 18, 2026)