Tootsie Roll No.1 | Original Pop-Realism Drawing by Mike Pitzer

Here’s the thing about Tootsie Rolls and my family.

On weekends, my parents would pile all five kids into their silver-blue Plymouth station wagon and take us for a drive around the county. We didn’t have a lot of money back then, but we had that used Plymouth—with a reverse bench seat in the back where my brother and I could sit facing backward and inhale car exhaust at every stop sign.

I don’t think the engineers thought that design through.

That’s where the Tootsie Rolls came in.

With five kids, my Dad was in charge of distributing the candy.

One for Bill, one for Dad.
One for Mike, one for Dad.
One for Debbie, one for Dad.
One for Lori, one for Dad.
One for Cheryl, one for Dad.

Mom didn’t eat ’em.

One more for Dad.

Every family drive. Without fail.

And somehow, we never caught on.

Today, when I smell exhaust, I think of family drives and Tootsie Rolls.

When I drew this, I wasn’t really thinking about the candy—or even the smell of exhaust. I was thinking about my Dad and how he somehow convinced five kids that he was being perfectly fair.

That’s American Material Memory.

Sometimes an ordinary piece of candy can carry an entire family around inside it.