Sometimes on hot summer afternoons we'd collect all of our pennies, dimes, nickles, quarters, fifty-cent pieces and occasional dollars...round up our list of drinks and snacks in hot pursuit of Mr and Mrs Bakers candy store down the street, NE corner of Pacific and Walter, nestled at the bottom of the hill, just below the circular catwalk overpass on the Pan American freeway and that oldest brother Gary jumped on to make it shake and scare us.
The snacks and cold drinks included ice cold Grape, Strawberry or Cream Nehi soda, RC Cola, ice cold Coca Cola, Squirt and Canada Dry, the very cool ice cream freezer in the back of the store with the shiny steal doors that laid flat and wildly fun to open and close and home to those great fudgecicles, milknickles, popcicles, push-ups and ice cream sandwiches...just heaven on a hot and sweaty summer day.
The wooden floor smelled rustic and oily, and squeeked when you walked in through the screen door, and the big glass candy counter drew you in like a magnet, well stocked with the best candy in the world. Penny candy, hershey's chocolate kisses/two for a pennny, licorice, jaw breakers, candy bars for a nickle, wax candy and great "Winners" suckers where one could win a free sucker if you got a strip of white paper in the back that said "Winner" on it. On the glass counter top a box full of fluffy glazed-doughnuts on display filled the air with the mouth watering scent of fresh baked goods begging to be bought and eaten on site. The Comic books? Those always seemed to find their way into our hands, providing hours of giggles and grins as The Family Circle, Beetle Baily, Archie, Veronica, Casper, Huckleberry Hound or Alvin and The Chipmonks got in and out of scrapes.
"Where's Boob"? Mr or Mrs Baker inquired if I walked in without Mark and "Where's Sissy?" if Mark went to the store without me. So simple, such a sweet memory.
It's hard to think of the way two old peoples' lives were taken, robbed and killed over a few bucks in their cash box. Mrs Baker armed with only a broom, fighting for her life.
Christmas Eve 1968, a neighborhood kid comes knocking on our door, crying hysterically to tell us what had happenend. It was a shock, reality hit us hard, that Christmas was overshadowed with sadness, It was time to move out of the old neighborhood. Mom knew the simpler times of our lives were fading, people were changing and a new era of life and the unknown approached on the horizon.
2 comments:
Brunodelarosa,
what kind of person takes such a nom de plume? That enigma can't be named! Putting thought to pen- what a talent that is shared with the world. We are lucky to be a part of those moments with brunodelarosa- walking together in a world of her subtle yet astute observations. Much like sipping on a fine wine, these stories cannot be read in haste, but rather savored and pondered carefully. Sharing a talent that is God given, thank you BDLR, for making my world a little brighter and funner. You are a keeper.
What a lovely thing to say Norma l.
Thank you for taking the time to offer such sweetness. It is not lost on me.
me aka bdlr
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