Back to the Fifties Today

          Back in the fifties every neighborhood where I lived had one or more corner confectioneries. The stores were small by today’s standards. The one I went to nearly every day was owned by a widow who made her and her son’s living in her small store. There was a center aisle which had bread and some canned goods on its opposite side. The outer wall had comic books which always caught my eye. I could trade 2 of mine for 1 newer one and I was always ready for that. The other wall aisle had an ice cream counter which I rarely had enough pocket change for that, but always admired it none the less. The front of the store had 2 pinball machines for which my good friend John always had a pocket full of nickels to play pinball with. The back counter had the cash register, the candy counter and a cooler with soft drinks. Cigarettes were behind the counter, but all one needed to do was say they were for one’s mother and across the counter they came at 20 cents a pack. Besides the nickels John had for pinball, he always had a lunch pass at school. He smoked even back then so he wanted to go behind the school to smoke at lunchtime. I had crappy peanut butter and jelly sandwiches my mother made which were disgusting even for a kid. John would give me his lunch pass and I would give him my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He got to smoke at lunch and I got to have a decent school lunch. John’s mother always checked his lunch pass and I made sure the lunch pass had been punched. It seemed like a win-win situation for me and John. My mother did not like John for some reason, (perhaps she heard something through the neighborhood mom’s network) I never heard a reason why. One afternoon John and I were shooting his pellet gun at Coca-Cola bottles in dad’s garage when he came home early from work. He was not happy, mumbling something about his tires and broken glass. John disappeared at some point I do not remember. I like to think his parents moved to a better life and not that he may have ended up in what they used to call reform school. I never saw him or heard about him again. Well that’s my short trip back to the fifties today.